Rona's Story: The Truth Beneath the Rose
by RonaLightfoot
Summary: Rona Lightfoot, the Dragonborn, journeys across Skyrim training her thu'um and searching the Dwemer ruins for the Elder Scroll. Along the way she finds herself mixed up with the Thieves Guild and eventually, the Dark Brotherhood comes calling. Meanwhile the lone ranger Bishop continues his endless search for her, facing down dragons and anything else that tries to stand in his way.
1. Chapter 1 Time Gone By

_Author's Note: This is Book Two, of a four part series. If you have not read Book One, Rona's Story: An Epic Skyrim Romance, I implore you to go back and read that one first, otherwise you will be entirely lost on this one._

 **Chapter 1**

 **Time Gone By**

An arrow spun through the air, shunting straight into the neck of its target, a particularly fat rabbit hidden in the brush. The ranger got up from his hidden position behind some thick shrubbery and stowed his bow away. He yawned and scratched at his short, wiry beard as he stepped through the trees and picked up his arrow with the prey still skewered on it. He yanked the animal off the arrow and slung it over his shoulder, adding it to the two pheasants he'd already caught.

The sun was slowly setting as he wound his way through the trees and back up the path towards the Ruins of Bthalft. He whistled sharply, calling for his closest traveling companion. A russet wolf appeared loping along through the trees, carrying his own kill in his bloodied maw, a mangled rabbit he'd already torn apart. The wolf was wearing enchanted leather armor, normally fitted for huskies, but a certain Orc and his lovely Breton wife had been kind enough to outfit him in the leathers, making sure they fit perfectly.

Together the two went up the stone steps to the old Dwemer ruins and he looked around. There didn't appear to be any obvious entry into them. One thing caught his eye, however, a rough carving on one of the stone henges. The Akaviri symbol for the Dragonborn, shaped like a dragon's head with an arrow pointing down. She'd already been there, same with the other two he'd visited in the Rift. Except this time, she'd written, _No way in_.

The last two had said, _No scroll_.

He wondered how recent it was, how long ago she'd been there. Had it been months? Days? Hours? He looked around and didn't see any sign of a camp or anything that might have been disturbed in a long time by a human presence.

He sighed, dropping his travel pack onto the ground and started walking around the area, collecting some brush and small logs to make a fire with and proceeded to set up camp for the night. He laid out his bedroll and sat down, pulling his dagger from its sheath, stopping to look at it for a moment. He ran a finger over the smooth pearlescent side of it. It had been a gift from her, one he cherished, especially now that it had saved his life more than once.

It was well crafted dragon-bone forged in the fires of the Skyforge. Sturdy, sharp, reliable and very hard, but very light at the same time. He started to dress and clean the rabbit and pheasants while his wolf quietly gnawed on his own meal near the fire. His mind wandered as it always did, constantly thinking of her, wondering where she was and how she was fairing. Was she happy? Sad? Lonely? As lonely as him? He wondered.

The silence was absolutely soul crushing the first few weeks without her. He'd run so fast and far down that mountain, ignoring the Greybeards who were stunned to see him without her. He felt so hurt and angry then. He wanted to yell at her, to tell her it was wrong, it was all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

She'd said that to him once, when she blurted her love to him out of fear and anger. Now the tables had turned. He'd proposed and she'd said no and he knew deep down that it wasn't because she didn't want it, but because she was so damn determined to finish this godsforsaken journey of hers without him getting hurt. She did it to protect him. To save him. All because he'd actually died. He'd started to remember it too, going back to that ethereal paradise in his dreams, watching his brother's soul be snatched up by the World Eater himself. He hated those nightmares and longed to hear her lullabies again, to soothe his mind and send him into peaceful slumber, something he hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing for a long time.

He knew she left because she couldn't live with herself knowing she was putting everyone she loved in life-threatening danger. Because the dragons would do whatever they could to kill those closest to her, but especially to kill him, in order to crush her will.

He'd raced down that mountain then, on the worst day of his life, but when he'd reached the bottom he didn't know what to do or where to start. She'd flown off on Paarthurnax, a dragon. She could have been anywhere and she'd obviously planned this. Every step, every move was deliberate and calculated. They took the long way back and she feigned her joy for him, they made love and spent time in all of the most precious places to them. She was giving him her last. Every last laugh and smile and intimate touch, every beautiful waking moment she had for him because she was going to leave and she didn't know how long it would be.

Then she took him up to that snowy, desolate peak, the Throat of the World and left him there, knowing that he would be forced to climb down the slow way. She was giving herself time to prepare for her departure, or at least time to cover her tracks. He took a guess then and decided to return to the farm, hoping with all his heart that she'd changed her mind and she'd be there waiting for him, ready to apologize for what she'd just done.

But instead he found Serlas and Illia, quietly enjoying a cup of tea, chatting away nonchalantly as though nothing terrible had just happened. When they saw Bishop burst in, disheveled and exhausted from lack of sleep after he rode nonstop a day and a half back, they were utterly surprised. And then Serlas noticed Rona wasn't there and he'd asked with panic in his voice, "Where is she?"

Bishop took one pained look at the old elf and then ran into her room. There he found her old clothes, most notably her bright red day dress laying on the bed with an envelope sitting on top of it, his name handwritten on the front.

He recalled how much he was shaking as he picked up that envelope, how difficult it was just to open it and how much his heart hurt when he read it. He'd read that damn letter hundreds of times since. She'd written it before she knew he was going to propose, that much was obvious.

He sighed again as the crackle of the fire broke him from his reverie for a moment. He realized that he'd already finished cleaning the animals he'd caught so he started tossing the meat into the stew, letting it simmer. He sat back down on his bedroll and rifled through his pack until he found the letter, pulling it out to look at it. He had it memorized, since he'd read it at least once every night since she left. But he couldn't help it. It was a piece of her. Her handwriting, her words. He stared at it and his eyes began their usual trace on the parchment from top to bottom;

 _My dearest Ranger,_

 _If you are reading this now, then that means I went through with it. I left you up on the Throat of the World and for that I am deeply sorry. I agonized over my decision, never wanting it to come to this and I held out for as long as I could. But after seeing you die, after pulling your very soul from Sovngarde and holding your broken and crumpled body in my arms while you healed, I knew then that I could not do this to you anymore._

 _For too long you've been at risk staying with me. The dragons who hunt me also hunt you with the same murderous intentions. I refuse to watch you die again because of me. So I must go. I will continue to search for the Elder Scroll on my own. I already know that you will try to find me and I assure you, that you won't. I've taken great precautions to mask everything about myself. I'm just another face in the crowd now._

 _I beg you not to risk yourself entering the Dwemer ruins. This is my responsibility. My journey. If you cannot wait for me, I'll understand and I don't expect you to._

 _But please remember that I love you with all my heart and I do this for you. To keep you safe. I never meant to hurt you._

 _I love you Bishop and I always will._

 _Forever yours,_

 _Rona_

It was short. Too short. He'd wanted it to be longer, for there to be more of an explanation. He kept asking ' _why?_ ', even though she'd very clearly elaborated on that. He couldn't come to terms with it though.

Her father was nearly as distraught as him when he'd read it over. She'd been there, however briefly, and hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to him or leave him a letter of his own. She was breaking off all ties, all contact with everyone to protect them.

He sighed deeply and wearily then neatly folded the letter back up and slid it into his pack. He laid back on his bedroll, throwing his arms up behind his head and stared up at the night sky. The aurora borealis was in full view and the stars were sparkling beautifully. Karnwyr loped over to him and laid down beside him.

Bishop started stroking the wolf's fur and asked, "What do you think boy? You think she's looking at these same stars right now? Probably," he smiled a little to himself at the thought and his heart twist a bit, feeling that aching pang of loneliness from being without her.

A young woman stared dully at a dirty brown spot on the stone ceiling. A spot where there'd been water damage. It was shaped kind of like a bear she thought… or maybe a sabre-cat. Her long white-blonde hair, which curled down the middle of her back was a bit tangled from her earlier scuffle with the town guards and her warm amber eyes glowed in the dim firelight cast off by the few torches held in sconces along the walls.

She was sitting against a similar water damaged stone wall, fully dressed in her form fitting leather armor, a set made for her by a close family friend. She had on a very warm light brown, fur-trimmed wrap, which draped around her shoulders and fell down to the back of her legs. The wrap she'd bought herself because she often struggled to stay warm in Skyrim's frigid climate. It also served as a hood which she could use to conceal herself with.

Granted, it hadn't done its job very well this time around, or many of the others for that matter. She was a very poor thief indeed.

The sound of rattling metal on the bars startled her and she looked over at a poor, raggedy man running an old tankard against the steel bars of the jail they were sitting in. He howled, "WHERE'S MUH SOUP!? IT'S DINNAH AND UHM HUNGRY!"

One of the guards, a Redguard man, sitting at a table across the way looked up from a book he was reading and sighed, "Quit your bellyachin' Urfen. We were just about to let you out anyhow, looks like you served your time." He got up, walked over to the jail, took a key to the door and started to unlock it.

Urfen, an incredibly old and disheveled Nord man dressed in rags looked utterly dejected by that notion and simpered, "But uhm still hungry."

The guard flung the door open and said, "So go get to begging like always then."

Urfen's lower lip trembled and the guard just looked at him with half-lidded eyes, "We're not feeding you today Urfen. Move along. And don't even think about stealing any food, because if you get tossed back in here again you're still not getting anything."

The Nord scowled at him and then slowly walked off, defeated. The young woman looked up at the guard and gave him a hopeful smile as he held the door open. He glanced at her and then said, "Nope. Still got two days left on your stay here Jill."

She sighed, thudding her head back against the wall and asked, "Can you at least give me something to read? I'm bored out of my mind in here."

"Two hours and bored already, eh?" He smirked at her as he shut the steel door with a light clang. He leaned against the bars on his side, crossing his arms and asked, "What were you even thinking trying to steal from Jorgen and Lami anyhow?"

She shrugged and said, "Girl's gotta eat."

He scoffed at her, "You know, last time you were here you took down an entire vampire's nest and saved our town. Why on Nirn would you ever stoop so low as to start thieving? You'd make a better mercenary from what I've seen, not to mention an honest living."

She turned her face away from him and after a moment she heard his footsteps as he retreated back to his desk across the way.

They'd never understand why she was a mercenary turned thief and she'd never bother to tell them anyways. Her reasons were her own and she'd promised herself that she'd never involve another soul on her journey. _Not ever_.

After her first two disastrous and nearly-lethal adventures into two separate Dwemer ruins in the Rift, she realized that her skills with lockpicking and sneaking were sorely lacking, and in those places, filled with traps, locked doors, locked chests and of course with plenty of Falmer lurking about, she really needed to hone those skills.

Normally she stole for the Thieves Guild, bringing them coin and making some for herself to get by on, in this particular case, however, it had been personal. There was a very specific hilt for a very specific dagger she was desperate to get her hands on. She already had two out of the three pieces she needed to complete the thing and the last piece was so damn close, right there in Morthal in an old lumberjack's home.

She'd taken up the job for an Imperial man living out in Dawnstar, who said he was opening a museum to educate visitors about his ancestors, members of the Mythic Dawn Cult. After learning more about the Razor and hearing about its powerful enchantment she claimed to be a treasure hunter and offered to search for and bring him the pieces in exchange for coin.

She figured with a blade like that, her journey would be significantly easier, at least, killing things like the Falmer would be easier and she missed having a decent dagger, having given her own to her younger brother ages ago.

She'd considered going to Whiterun and having Eorland forge her a dragon-bone dagger, but she couldn't risk it. She had a feeling, even with the changes in her hair and eyes she was far too recognizable, at least up close. She couldn't very well change her height and she wasn't terribly good at disguising her voice either.

She sat there in that damp, dreary jail, and started thinking about everyone she'd been missing. She wanted to see her little brother and the Companions, she longed to visit her father and enjoy his home brewed jazbay tea while they chatted in the comforts of the cottage but most of all she wanted to see _him_. She traced the wolf carving on the ring on her finger as she sat there getting lost in her thoughts and fond old memories.

Her heart ached every day without him. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since she left, because she either dreamed about leaving him at the Throat of the World or watched him die over and over again in her nightmares. It was a constant reminder of why she'd left and why she couldn't go back. But how she yearned for his touch, for his comfort, to hold him in her arms and have him hold her back. The loneliness was beyond description.

The guard came back over with a small tray in hand and asked, "That you humming over here?"

She looked up at him, not even realizing that she had been humming the entire time, "Ah yeah… sorry about that."

He smirked at her, "It's kind of nice." He unlocked the jail door and set the plate of food down on the ground and closed it up again, "Dinner's served."

She looked over at the tray and frowned. There was a tankard of dirty looking water, a piece of stale bread and a small bowl of lukewarm stew, which a fly had crash landed into.

"Beggars can't be choosers Jill. Eat up."

She sighed and relented, grabbing the tray and bit into the hard bread. Before he got a chance to walk away she said, "Hey, Kellen, if you've got a lute laying around I can play and sing you some songs." He glanced back at her and looked skeptical. Then she said with a laugh, "I promise not to smash it to pieces and use it as a weapon. Besides, I have magic, I could have used that ages ago if I really wanted to."

He chuckled, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that so I don't have to bind your arms. Alright, I'll see if I've got one laying around."

He left and she picked the fly out of her stew before sipping on it. She'd finish her time there, and clear her bounty. But she was still damn determined to get that hilt. She'd tried to steal it in broad daylight, thinking it'd be easier with no one home. But she'd been caught while fussing with the lock and her invisibility wore off. This time she'd sneak in under the cover of night.

And after that she'd make the trip back to Dawnstar to collect her reward for that piece and take care of a few jobs she was supposed to be running for the Guild. On the way was a Dwemer ruin she'd been hoping to explore. Although she didn't feel quite ready to take the plunge inside it, she'd at least scout it out, determine what might be involved in getting in.

She'd definitely be prepared the next time she did go into one by stocking up on potions, buying a ton of lock picks and she would bring plenty of fresh food and water because if it was anything like the other two, she'd be down there for a few days at least. But first she needed that dagger repaired and she hoped that the museum proprietor knew how to fix it. If he did manage to repair it, well… she'd have to turn right around and steal it from him.

She smirked as she wiped up the last of her stew with the hard bread. She'd changed so much over the last six months. She hardly recognized herself anymore.

Bishop finished eating his supper and packed his dishware back up. He tried to keep everything in his camp neat and tidy, stowed away and ready to move again in a moment's notice. He never knew when a dragon would appear and he'd learned to be ready for it.

He yawned, laying back on his bedroll and closed his eyes, hoping that for once he'd have a dreamless sleep. He didn't have much of a chance to nod off though when he heard the sound of a lute playing.

(The Song is _The Rains of Castamere_ by Malukah)

Bishop grumbled loudly from his bedroll and rolled over. Eira was seated by the fire, translucent as ever and playing a lute as she sang some old tavern song. He sighed, rolling his eyes and looked right at her and said, "Really? Right now? You couldn't have done this a little earlier before I started to nod off?"

She simply smiled at him as she sang, giving him that mysterious look she always did. For six months he'd suffered this woman haunting his footsteps. There were times when she was wispy and faded like now and others when she was nearly a solid person walking along with him. Sometimes she would sing and even fight alongside him.

He had a strange feeling it was Rona's doing. That she'd set this ghost of a woman on him, to keep an eye out for him or something. There were times he appreciated her presence, like when she helped fend off bandits, predators and dragons, but other times like now, when he just wanted to sleep, she drove him mad.

He scowled at her and stuck his fingers in his ears. She had a beautiful voice, certainly, but it was nothing compared to Rona's soft, elegant voice and he really was in no mood for the fiery red-head's crooning at that moment.

She continued and he sat upright, getting up and stomped over to her, "Would you just stop already!?" He roared throwing his hands out, "You're going to attract predators damn it! You know if you're going to channel your inner voice or whatever, at least sing a little more like her! I'd much rather hear her voice, at least then I could sleep!"

He swiped a hand at her but it simply went through her ethereal form and she just grinned at him. He growled again and turned around to slump back down onto his bedroll trying his damndest to ignore the woman.

Finally, she stopped and he sighed, closing his eyes again, attempting to drift off once more. Then again her lute started up.

(The Song is _Rains of Castamere_ by Erutan)

He grumbled loudly and took a blanket, yanking it over his head and pressed a hand to his ear, trying to drown her out. But then he heard a new voice, one that made his skin prickle and his heart race.

 _"Who are you, the young lord said, that I must bow so low?  
Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know  
A coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws  
And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours."_

It had been ages since he'd heard that sweet sound. Instinctively he rolled over and started looking all around for any sign of her as her beautiful voice echoed around the campsite, but all he saw was Eira, seated by the fire, smiling at him.

The fire though, it glowed golden embers. It was Rona's fire. Her beautiful, wonderful golden fire. He sat up then and moved closer to it, crawling on his hands and knees and just stared into it. The sound was coming from the fire and then he saw a faded image of her beautiful face in the flames, ghostly and ethereal, he could barely discern her features, but he knew it was her. She was singing with a soft smile on her face. Singing that same song that Eira just sang, because the two were connected.

He looked up at the fiery red-head and breathed, "Where is she?"

Eira just looked at him. She said nothing. She never said anything unless she was singing. He turned away from her, looking back into the fire and just stared hard at Rona, drinking in the image of her. It had been so long since he'd seen her, he couldn't believe how easy it was to forget the way someone looked until he saw her again.

She still had those three discernable scars on her left cheek, a gift from a frost troll up on the Seven Thousand Steps. He watched as her lovely lashes beat over her eyes and her perfect lips moved, parting with each word as she serenaded him through the fire. Her hair looked longer, and it was parted differently. He couldn't see the color of her hair or eyes though because everything looked ghostly and golden from his view. But he had the strongest feeling she'd changed them. She had to have, meaning to disappear as she did.

Word had started to spread quickly that the Dragonborn was dead shortly after she left. A rumor she no doubt spread herself. She'd done everything in her power to erase herself from existence, trying to evade him and possibly others like the Thalmor and the Dark Brotherhood. But still she left him messages, knowing he was searching, knowing he'd follow her footsteps.

She'd taken the map with her, the one he'd outlined with all the Dwemer ruins. He'd suggested they start in the Reach, but he suspected she'd start in the opposite direction just to try and throw him off. Two months gone by and he'd found her symbol and her words etched into the stone by the doors of the ruins of Mzulft and Kagrenzel. She'd already gone in and cleared both by the time he'd gotten there. But as he wandered through Skyrim checking all the other ruins he hadn't found any other marks left by her.

Until now.

That's when he realized that the ruins may have been more than she bargained for. She was biding her time, training herself no doubt. But where she was doing that, back then he had no idea, but now, finding this new mark after his second trip around Skyrim, visiting the Dwemer ruins… now he knew. She was somewhere in the Rift, hiding out there. She had to be. He started to suspect he knew exactly where too.

He watched the dancing golden flames as her song finished and she smiled at someone, even laughed a little. His heart wrenched at the sight. He wanted her to smile at him, to laugh with him, but she was happy and for that he was grateful. She deserved to be happy.

But then her image started to fade and the flames slowly turned orange and he impulsively reached a hand into the fire, trying to grab her, to stop her from fading. The fire turned hot again and he yanked his arm back with a painful growl as it licked at his skin.

(The music is _Final Frontier_ by Thomas Bergersen)

His attentions were drawn immediately away from the pain in his hand and his heart, however, when he heard the loud roar of a dragon and then he felt the ever present rumbling of the ground as the creature soared over him. He got up immediately and grabbed his weapons, fully arming himself with his bow and arrows and his sword and shield. He whistled sharply for Karnwyr and ran down the steps, keeping his eyes trained on the beast as it started circling around the area.

He'd have to be quick, he didn't have any shouts that could call the thing to him. He watched as the dragon landed, crashing down near a small farm on the edge of Lake Honrich near Riften. It was too perfect. It was exactly where he wanted it to be.

It started snapping at something in front of it and then he heard the telltale pained yowls of a man and the screams of others as the dragon caught its prey in its jaws. It snatched up what appeared to be the body of a man and devoured him whole into its fiery throat. Then it rounded on the others, roaring flames at them and lighting the farm and the fields alight with fire.

Bishop drew his bow as he got closer to it and bellowed, "ATTACK!" Karnwyr went full beast mode, barking viciously and raced into the fray. With his enchanted armor the fires didn't even phase the wolf. He darted between the legs of the dragon and buried his canines straight into the soft underbelly of the beast as Bishop started lobbing arrows into its hide. It hissed and writhed in pain, but the wolf hung on tightly and the ranger wouldn't let up on his volley.

When he got close enough he tossed his bow aside, slid his ebony shield over his left arm and yanked his steel and dragon-bone edged sword from its sheath. He rushed in, ready to kill just as he'd done so many times before. The dragon saw him coming though and roared another flurry of flames at him. The spellbreaker on his shield and the enchantments on his armor protected him well enough though and he easily pushed through the fires and made that creature's mouth meet his sword. He got down low and swung upward, stabbing it straight through the underside of its jaws, piercing the flesh through the bottom and up into its skull. Its eye widened and stared, stunned at him, as they always did. He gave it a hateful glare in reply and slid his sword from its mouth, making its blood run.

The dragon seemed to gasp for a moment as it slumped down and then for good measure, Bishop grit his teeth and stabbed hard into the top of its head, square between its eyes, making sure it was dead. He watched as the light from the dragon's eyes faded and he caught his breath, waiting hopefully.

But when nothing happened, when he only continued to stare down at the corpse of this godsforsaken cruel monster he roared, "FUCKING DAMN IT! DAMN IT ALL TO OBVLIVION!" He started lashing out at the corpse of the dragon, thrusting his sword into it over and over again angrily.

He hated these things more than he could ever express. They were the reason she was gone, the reason they couldn't be together and yet they were the only way to find her.

It had happened only two other times when he defeated them. The first time was in the second month since she'd left, just outside Whiterun. He'd been visiting the Companions for a short while, seeing if any of them had heard from her, which of course they hadn't. Then they received word of a dragon spotted nearby the Battle-Born Farm. They all immediately rose to the occasion and set out to take the beast down, Bishop, Aela, Vilkas, Farkas, Freya, Qetesh, Bast and even a few of the kids, Nelkir and his friend joined them, granted they were told to stand by and observe from a safe distance only.

The minute the dragon breathed its last breath its body started to burn up and its soul whisked away going northeast towards Shearpoint Mountain. Bishop wasted no time, without saying a word to the Companions he rushed off, setting out to track her location from there. He'd found the bones of another dead dragon on top of that mountain and a word wall. She'd been there, but she was already gone by the time he arrived. That's when he managed to track her back to the Rift and found evidence of her visits into Mzulft and Kagrenzel. And seeing the Akaviri symbols carved into the ruins he decided to make the trek across Skyrim to check them all.

And so he did, spending months trudging all across Skyrim checking each ruin for any more signs that she'd visited and killing all the dragons he could find along the way. He'd killed more dragons than he could count at that point and he'd become such a professional at it that word had started to spread about his skills. He really started to understand just how Rona felt, as he was becoming nearly as famous as the Dragonborn herself, with couriers finding him and presenting him with letters from Jarls and nobles offering him gold in exchange for taking care of the dragon pests in their holds and around their lands.

On the one hand, it was good to receive the letters, to easily learn where the dragons were in each hold and if they were near where he was tracking her, but on the other he found it incredibly irritating every time he was stopped by passersby and townsfolk along the roads and in the cities, seeking out his aid from the winged furies. He'd never wanted to become famous and he had no interest in killing the beasts to save anyone, it was only to try and find her.

It was Karnwyr that gave him away too, since word had spread that 'Arrow the Dragonslayer' worked with a russet wolf dressed in leather armor. He'd decided to stick with his alias from his time in Cyrodiil so that someday he could go back to just being Bishop, the lone ranger.

So he carried on then, as Arrow the Dragonslayer and took a few odd jobs here and there killing dragons when he could, hoping that soon enough one would burn up again and he could track her down once more. The second time it had happened was nearly a month ago, when he was wandering around the Reach near Karthwasten. He'd decided to take on a job to kill the dragon that had been hunting a little too close to the old mining village. That's when he got lucky again.

That dragon burned up two days after he'd killed it. It was early morning when it happened and he was lucky enough to just be waking up for it, granted the burning sounds surely would have made him stir either way. He watched as its soul whisked up and off to the northwest, towards Dragontooth Crater. He followed it as quickly as he could and once again found signs she'd been there, another word wall and dragon bones. She was definitely continuing her training, trying to complete her knowledge of all the dragon shouts. He managed to track her all the way back to Markarth but lost her again.

Karnwyr's nose just couldn't handle the overpowering smells coming from the hot smelters and smoky forges being worked overtime in the city of silver mining. Still he'd searched all over the city looking for any sign of her to no avail. He began his travels once more from there, seeking out the nearby Dwemer Ruins to see if she might be there. When he found no Akaviri symbols, however, he left again, making to head back to the Rift.

Now he was there once more, so damn close to her, yet so far. He'd been so sure she was hiding out in Riften somewhere, maybe in the Ratway even. He grimaced at the thought of his beloved hunkering down and hiding out in that disgusting and awful place. He sincerely doubted she'd get in with the Thieves Guild, he could never imagine her sinking that low. But he just had to know. He had to find out somehow.

"Is it? Is it dead?" A man's voice broke him from his reverie.

Bishop looked over at an old farmer and his wife as they stared nervously at the dead dragon literally collapsed in the middle of their farmland.

"Yeah, it's dead," Bishop said as he sheathed his sword and stowed his shield onto his back.

"It ate the town guard but… you killed it," the farmer said with awe.

"Sure did," Bishop said turning away from them.

"Wait," the woman called, "Please, we'd like to thank you for saving us."

"Oh you will," Bishop said, "I just have to go collect my travel pack. I'll be staying here for a few nights to keep an eye on the thing."

They gaped at him and he turned back grinning roguishly at them, "You know, to make sure it doesn't come back to life."

The two of them looked horrified but Bishop just chuckled to himself and started to make the trip back to the Dwemer ruins to collect his camping equipment. He'd stay out on that farm for a few days and wait it out, hoping with all his heart that the damned dragon would finally burn up and its soul would lead him to her.


	2. Chapter 2 Darkness Looming

**Chapter 2**

 **Darkness Looming**

When she'd told Kellen she could sing for him he actually managed to find a lute for her and gave it to her. She couldn't help but show off a little for the kindly Redguard singing her heart out and enjoying the chance to entertain someone with her voice for a change, which had been a rare thing for her those days.

She never sang in the presence of others anymore, not wanting to draw attention to herself or alert anyone to who she might really be. She couldn't take any chances when she knew Bishop was still out there, most likely searching for her and the most obvious places to look for her would be in the taverns with her singing as a bard.

So she often kept her voice to herself, though she still sang on the road when she was alone or accompanied by Jillian. The woman followed her more frequently than ever now, always lingering and keeping her company when she felt the loneliness of her journey overwhelming her.

She didn't mind the Nord woman's company. They were kin and companions on this dreadful journey together, both having lost the one they loved in one way or another. She related to Jillian on a very painful level. Granted, she'd been lucky enough to save Bishop from his death, Jillian however, had not been so fortunate, for her beloved, Ronin, had been crushed and torn to pieces by the World Eater himself and now she followed Rona closely, reminding her every day why she left in the first place.

Rona finished her song and matched Kellen's grin with one of her own and he just shook his head, "By the Divines woman! If you don't want to be a mercenary then the quiet life of a bard would definitely suit you. Hell, you could probably get a really nice job working as the private minstrel of some wealthy noble even."

Rona laughed at that notion. She could never imagine herself stuck in some stuffy noble's home singing tavern songs all day for them. "No way," she scoffed, "I'm too much of an adventurer. I'd go stir crazy stuck in one place forever."

"You know, I bet my wife Jonna would be happy to take you on as her tavern bard. Free room and board, regular meals, and plenty of room out here in Morthal to stretch your legs when you want, not to mention she's been dying to get rid of Lurbuk."

Rona laughed again scrunching her nose, "Oh nooo, not the Orc! I heard him the other day when I stopped in. He was trying so hard to sing Ragnar the Red and _ugh_ , it was terrible! Why did she ever hire him in the first place?"

Kellen laughed, "Are you kidding? He pays _us_. Rents a room and hangs around trying his damndest to croon his way into the hearts of the locals. I keep telling her he's the reason business is slow, but she insists he's the only steady business there. Honestly, if I weren't working as a guard we wouldn't survive another month with the way that Inn's being run."

He sighed kicking his feet up onto his desk and crossed his arms over, "Anyhow, you don't wanna hear about all that," he changed the subject and carried on lecturing her, "You know you have a lot of talent Jill, you're an incredible mercenary and you have a beautiful voice… you're a damn terrible thief though. I hope your little stay here opens your eyes to that."

Rona's face fell and she said, "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

She met his gaze and said seriously, "I only did it because I had to. If there had been any other way, I would have taken it."

Kellen raised a brow at her and asked, "What in Oblivion do Jorgen and Lami have that you need to get your hands so bad on anyhow? Some sort of enchanted axe you can't live without?"

"Can't say," she said tersely.

He studied her for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a courier jogging in. He pulled his feet off the desk and took the envelope the young man quickly handed to him before he ran off again, probably to deliver more letters.

Kellen opened the envelope and pulled out a very formal looking piece of parchment. He scanned it over, his thick brows raising ever higher on his head as he did so. Then he mumbled, "Huh," and stood up. He walked over to the jail, pulled out his key and unlocked the door then opened it. He leaned against the bars and said, "Looks like you're free to go Jillian."

Rona looked at him, stunned and he smirked at her then added, "As long as you pay a visit to Jarl Ravencrone first. She wants to see you personally. Maybe she can talk some sense into you."

She got up and passed him the lute. He took it and insisted, "Make sure you visit with her first or you'll still have a bounty on your head around these parts. Says so right here," he handed her the letter.

"Yeah I will," she said taking it. She already knew Jarl Ravencrone from her visit four months before when she managed to rid their town of a vampire infestation. The Jarl seemed to recognize her at the time but said nothing about it when she named her Thane of Morthal. Rona looked over the letter reading;

 _The Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone hereby pardons Thane Jillian Windsleaf for all crimes committed in Morthal provided she meets with the Jarl at her summons immediately. If the aforementioned does not follow these stipulations the bounty shall henceforth remain._

Rona remembered then that Jarl Ravencrone had once been acquainted with her mother, Claudia Windsleaf, and she had a feeling that even if the woman hadn't recognized who she was, she would have definitely recognized her name.

Rona chose her alias at the start of her journey. She took on Jillian's identity because of the striking similarities in their paths and because of the coldness, she felt in her heart at leaving Bishop behind. She used her mother's surname because it was far less recognizable than father's surname, Thoraminh, or the moniker her old Guildmates had given her, Lightfoot.

She folded up the parchment and thanked Kellen for his hospitality. He chuckled a little at her, considering she'd just been sitting in the local jail. She collected her weapons and gear from the guard at the front desk of the guardhouse and took her leave. It was still dark out, though less frightening since she'd rid the quiet town of the vampires that plagued them months ago.

She turned on her toe heading straight for the Jarl's Longhouse and stepped inside. Jarl Ravencrone was casually perched on her throne waiting expectantly for Rona's arrival. She approached the Jarl and gave a polite bow, "My Jarl, you summoned me?"

"Why yes my Thane, I did," the old woman rasped with her scratchy tone of voice. She seemed very displeased about the circumstances of their meeting, making it apparent with the purse of her lips and the thin slits of her eyes. She stood up suddenly and motioned to Rona, "Follow me Miss Windsleaf, we have much to discuss."

Rona warily eyed the Jarl's housecarl as he looked her up and down regarding her. They stepped into the Jarl's private chambers and her housecarl shut the door behind them.

"Now then," Jarl Ravencrone said as she stepped over to the side table by her bedside. She started fishing through the drawer and continued, "I'm sure you've realized by now that I know exactly who you are, Dragonborn," she glanced back at Rona, who kept her face completely straight. It was one of the first things Delvin had ever taught her how to do and she'd mastered that particular skill easily. She may have been a poor thief, but she was a master at staying stony-faced and could probably even lie her way out of Mephala's web if she wanted to.

The Jarl raised her brows a bit and then turned back to continue searching for something in her drawer and began to harangue Rona, "You're walking a very dark path these days girl. I know you do it because you believe it's necessary, that it's the only way and you'd be partly right. But this," she pulled something wrapped in a cloth from the drawer and turned back to Rona, clutching the item tight in her wrinkled hand, "if you take this, you will be consumed by darkness and it will be nearly impossible to escape."

Rona looked at her curiously, confused even and said, "I don't understand, Jarl Ravencrone… what do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean. I've seen it in my dreams. The day before you came here I had a horrible vision, a nightmare of what was to come, of what's in store for _you_."

Rona swallowed hard, not liking where this was going. The Jarl unbundled the item from the cloth and held it up. It was an ornate silver hilt, one that belonged to a dagger. She stared hard at the hilt, it was what she'd planned to steal once she was freed from her stay in the local jail. But now the Jarl was here, presenting it to her freely. Rona met the woman's sharp gaze and the Jarl spoke again, her tone more serious than ever.

"If you take this, you won't be able to go back. I want you to know that."

Rona breathed, "Will I be able to get closer to finding the scroll? Will I be able to defeat Alduin with it?"

The Jarl paused, their eyes boring into each other and she said, "Yes. With this, you will be that much closer to finding the scroll… and consequently, to defeating the World Eater."

Rona reached for it and the Jarl snatched her wrist, clutching it surprisingly hard for a woman so frail, "If you take it, you cannot escape the path of darkness that you follow."

Rona grit her teeth and snapped at the woman, "What does that even mean!? Why do seers always have to speak in riddles!?"

"It is because even we cannot see what looms in the dark, we can only see its presence and the cause of it. To tangle with Mehrunes Dagon is madness in itself Rona, I hope you know that."

Rona nearly flinched at the sound of her real name. It had been so long since she'd heard it spoken out loud by someone other than herself. She took a deep breath and the Jarl released her grip from her wrist.

She already felt like she'd been on a path of darkness because without Bishop in her life things had been so lonely and miserable. The light in her life was completely gone. How could this thing possibly make it worse? She'd already met with plenty of other Daedric Princes, she didn't see the harm in meeting another, even if it was Mehrunes Dagon.

But still, she hesitated, "Will I be putting anyone else at risk by taking this?"

"Of course you will," Jarl Ravencrone said, "This is a part of Mehrunes Razor. You know full well what it is... what it's used for. The blood of the innocent will cover your hands should you take this."

Rona felt her heart racing at that thought. Innocent people would die if she took the hilt? If she repaired the dagger? But if she didn't find the Elder Scroll in time so many more would die, the entire world would end. The blood of the innocent would be on her hands either way. If a few should have to die so that thousands more could be saved... she cringed at herself. What was she thinking? This wasn't her. How far would she have to fall before she stopped and said no more?

Still... she recalled a time when Ulfric Stormcloak killed many innocents within Whiterun's walls and what he'd said about that, _This is war Dragonborn! The innocent will die! No freedom was ever gained by laying down and letting the enemy trample you._

She looked right at Jarl Ravencrone, her golden gaze piercing, "This is war my Jarl. War between us and the dragons. People will die no matter what. If this gets me that much closer to stopping my enemies, _our_ enemies, then I have to take it. Unless there is some other way," she pleaded the last, looking desperately at the woman.

Jarl Ravencrone cast her eyes down and shook her head, "I do not know if there is another way. All I can see is the darkness which looms… it engulfs you and surrounds you."

"Because of the Daedra?" Rona asked.

"No," the Jarl said, "This does not come from any Daedra… it is far worse than that."

Something worse than a Daedra? She couldn't even imagine it. Maybe the World Eater, but even he had limits on what he could do in the physical world and the Daedra seemed even more powerful than him. They could actually whisk her away to other realms. Alduin certainly didn't have that kind of power, that she knew of.

She was desperate though. She felt like she needed this object of power more than anything else now. To be that much closer to ending her journey, to finally be able to see him again. She had to take it.

She reached out again and this time Jarl Ravencrone didn't stop her. Rona grasped the hilt in hand, running her thumb across the pointed silver ends.

"And so it is done," the Jarl said sadly, "I hope you will take care of yourself Dragonborn. Stay vigilant and by the Nine, don't you dare die on us."

"I won't," Rona said adamantly, "I mean... I've survived this long haven't I?"

She smiled feebly and the Jarl gave her a sad look, patting her shoulder and said, "You'd best hurry along then child..."

They stepped back into the main hall with the housecarl at their heels. As she made her way towards the door, Rona looked back at the Jarl and asked, "Do you know where it is? Can you see where the scroll is at all?"

Jarl Ravencrone shook her head, "If I knew where it was, I never would have given you that hilt. I'm sorry my Thane."

Rona nodded and said, "Thank you Jarl Ravencrone."

She stepped outside and heard a quiet, "May the gods watch over you," as the door shut behind her. She grimaced at that remark. She realized long ago that there were no gods watching over her, at least none that were interested in really helping her, or that could.

She hurried along the path heading south towards the winding dirt road that would lead her up northeast to her intended destination of Dawnstar. She didn't feel comfortable staying the night in Morthal, considering she was just caught, red-handed, attempting to break into one of the local's homes. She felt especially ill at ease lingering there now that she actually had the item she'd intended to steal in the first place on her person. Instead, she would travel a short way down the road and then break off the path and make camp for the night.

She shivered as a light breeze blew by and snow started to fall gently from the thick clouds above. She cast her Resist Frost spell over herself. She'd practiced constantly with it over the last six months and it had gotten quite a bit stronger. She'd even managed to make it powerful enough that it would last her through most of the night.

After an hour's walk down the road, she broke off the path and trudged through a small thicket, weaving around the trees and kicking through the snow. She found a quiet little clearing and set up camp for the night, putting together a fire pit and her small tent for some shelter.

She sat close to the fire and pulled her fur wrap tighter around herself and drew the hood up to protect her face and ears from the chill. She stared mindlessly into the flames waiting for sleep to take her.

Mzinchaleft was right around the bend from her location and beyond that was Dawnstar. She'd gotten a look at the place the other day when she passed by from a distance. Like all Dwemer ruins it looked absolutely enormous from the outside and would probably be even bigger within, winding deep underground into vast tunnels, filled with steam and the ever resounding noises of machinery clanking away, working endlessly to maintain the defenses of those strange places. They were always rumbling beneath their feet, working to protect and hide the secrets of the Dwemer for eternity.

After her first two disastrous adventures into the ruins out in the Rift she'd developed a new hatred for everything Dwemer. They truly had been a strange and cruel race, one that not only twisted the Snow Elves into the god-awful creatures that were the Falmer, but they'd designed so many terrifying and bloody traps.

The automatons were the worst, she'd thought. At least with living creatures, they had some form of fight or flight response and most would flee if she'd killed enough of them. But with the automatons that was never the case. They always just kept coming, one after the other with only one desire built into them and that was the desire to kill any and all intruders even at the expense of their being. They were disposable and easily replaced by plenty of others.

She doubted that the enchantment on Mehrunes' Razor would have any effect on such things, but it would at least be effective against the Falmer, who were arguably almost as mindless as the automatons. There never seemed to be an end to them either. She wondered sometimes if having lived their entire existence around the Dwemer creations, which never gave up the fight, forced them to behave the same way, throwing themselves at intruders one after the other without any real concern for their own lives.

At least with a good dagger close combat with them wouldn't be so bad anymore. She grasped the iron dagger at her side. She'd picked it off a bandit a few months back. It wasn't very good for fighting with, but it suited her just fine when she was cleaning her dinner. Her stomach gave a low growl. The food they'd provided in the Morthal jail was hardly filling at all. She got up and squinted, looking around through the night. She wasn't a very good hunter or tracker, but she'd remembered everything Bishop had taught her and she'd gotten a little better at it, not to mention she had something he didn't.

She whispered, _"Laas yah nir!"_ The world around her faded for a brief moment before clearing so that she could see any living creatures in the vicinity as red, glowing figures. This new shout worked very much like a Detect Life spell, however since she wasn't terribly skilled at Alteration, this particular shout became incredibly useful to her. It was also spoken in a whisper, instead of actual shouting, so it wouldn't alert any potential prey or enemies in the area of her presence. She looked around and saw a pair of doe picking at the fauna nearby. She wasn't interested in big game however and looked around hopefully for a rabbit or a pheasant.

She got lucky and saw the small, flickering pulse of a rabbit a short way off in some brush. She drew her bow, nocked an arrow and stepped as quietly as she could through the snow, crunching lightly along as she approached it. Her sight was lined up and she prepared to release her arrow when she heard a loud roar behind her, she spun around only to be met with the claws of a vicious snow bear.

They cut sharply through her arm, forcing her to drop her bow and arrow as she fell backward stunned. She grit her teeth with the stinging pain in her left arm and as the bear rounded on her, roaring viciously she shouted, "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

The bear received her breath of fire fully in the face and grunted painfully. It quickly retreated back, realizing that she was in fact _not_ an easy meal. But Rona wasn't about to try and sleep with a predator stalking around. She cast a quick healing spell over her arm, grabbed her bow and ran after the thing shouting, "WULD NAH KEST!" to shunt herself forward. She took aim, shouted, "SU GRAH DUN!" and with that she released her arrow, sending it spinning forcefully into the back of the bear. It roared again and looked back at her.

She nocked another and sent that one spinning into its leg. With the new pain in its leg, the snow bear slowed significantly and she caught up to it, quickly circling around the beast as it came to a complete stop and eyed her warily.

She stood in front of it, nocking another arrow and said, "I'm sorry, I'll make it quick."

The arrow loosed and shunted square between its eyes, killing it instantly with the added force and power of her Elemental Fury. She took a breath, stowing her bow back and looked over the gash in her left arm which was still bleeding. Her sleeve had been torn too and she would have to take the time to mend it, but for now, she focused on healing herself, running glowing fingers over the wound closing it fairly easily, although it left a nice set of scars.

She laughed incredulously at herself as she drew her crappy little dagger from its sheath and started to skin and gut the bear. She was completely covered in scars now. She had three on her left cheek from a frost troll, a permanent white burn on her back from water boiled by dragon fire, a long slash carved into her left shoulder from the Wolf Queen herself, a jagged gash on her left hip and teeth marks along the side of her neck from a sick sadist and even now, she had new ones. A large burn enveloped her right thigh, a gift from a dragon at Dragontooth Crater and so many more cuts and gashes all across her skin from various battles she'd been in. She could hardly keep track of them anymore.

Rona slid her iron dagger through the soft belly of the bear, letting its guts spill out and started separating thick cuts of meat from its body, dividing it up neatly and getting her hands bloody in the process. She smiled a little reminiscing on the time she'd received the scars on her face, thinking about how Bishop so carefully tended to her wounds, completely doting on her. She recalled how she'd wanted to thank him for his help, for caring. But back then he'd been so closed off not wanting anyone to know he cared about them, so instead she asked, "Is it bad?" and he replied with a playful smirk, "No, I think it'll be fine. Definitely going to scar, but what's the Dragonborn without some battle wounds?"

(The Song is _Our Farewell_ by Within Temptation)

 _Battle wounds indeed_ , she thought. As Dragonborn, she was covered in them now. But she knew he wouldn't care, considering he was covered head to toe in his own scars. Her heart ached at the thought of him and Jillian shimmered into being, standing over her as she worked on cleaning her kill.

Rona didn't even look up at the woman, she merely continued her work as if there was no ghost standing there and Jillian started to sing Rona's feelings into the night, as she often did because Rona preferred to keep them bottled up inside herself, unwilling to let herself feel them. So Jillian felt them for her and released her pain in agonizing songs that sometimes she couldn't ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

 _"In my hand a legacy of memories  
I can hear you say my name  
I can almost see your smile  
Feel the warmth of your embrace  
But there is nothing but silence now  
Around the one I loved  
Is this our farewell?_

 _Sweet darling you worry too much  
My child, see the sadness in your eyes  
You are not alone in life  
Although you might think that you are_

 _Never thought this day would come so soon  
We had no time to say goodbye  
How can the world just carry on?  
I feel so lost when you're not at my side  
But there is nothing but silence now  
Around the one I loved  
Is this our farewell?"_

This time though she started to sing, taking over this song, making it her own. She let the words fly from her throat and pierce the snow-strewn sky.

 _"Sweet darling you worry too much  
My child, see the sadness in your eyes  
You are not alone in life  
Although you might think that you are"_

She felt cold tears trickling down her cheeks. She missed him so much. He would have scolded her for this, definitely. Not securing the perimeter, or paying attention to her surroundings. Letting a predator get the jump on her like that. She tried to think of what he would say, _"What were you thinking going off like that without even checking your surroundings first!? I swear sometimes Ladyship… one of these days you're going to get us both killed with your stupidity!"_ He would have been so red in the face angry and she missed even that. It just wasn't fair.

She cut more fiercely into the bear, tearing chunks of its flesh away, putting her anger into her actions and her words as she sang with Jillian.

 _"So sorry your world is tumbling down  
I will watch you through these nights  
Rest your head and go to sleep  
Because my child this is not our farewell"_

She met Jillian's eyes as the Nord woman finished their joined song,

 _"This is not our farewell."_

It was almost reassuring the way Jillian sang that last and smiled at her. As if to say there was still a chance to go back, to see him someday. Rona took a deep breath, burying her feelings deep inside herself and wiped her cold tears away on her sleeve. She piled the meat into a swatch of the bear's pelt, hauled it over her shoulder and returned to her camp. She'd eat her dinner and sleep restlessly that night as she always did.

(Background Music _Auld Tavern Song_ by Faolan)

The next morning, she woke to the sounds of a fire crackling and the delicious scent of cooking food. She thought that was odd because she'd put the fire out the night before. She opened her eyes partway and scanned the area just outside her tent. Someone dressed in orange and yellow temples robes was sitting out there, near her campfire and they were pulling two strips of meat from _her_ kill and cooking it with _her_ cooking pan. She furrowed her brows, frowned and reached for one of her blades, trying to be as quiet as possible.

She tentatively pulled her sword from its sheath and quickly pushed herself off her bedroll and leapt forward kicking the stranger over from his sitting position with her foot and aimed her blade for his throat, holding the hilt with both hands.

The Khajiit under her hissed with panic in his voice, "Wait Dragonborn!" Rona flinched at the word, but did not move her blade, in fact, she pressed it a little closer to his throat as adrenaline started to pulse through her veins. How did he know who she was? Was he Dark Brotherhood? Had they finally found her? She was tempted to slash his throat and be done with it. But then he started rambling, "M'aiq means no harm! M'aiq was merely hungry for a meal! M'aiq did not think the Dragonborn would mind… it was a very large snow bear after all…"

The bear… he'd seen her last night and heard her. "Who are you?" She demanded and felt a bit annoyed when the Khajiit grinned and said, "M'aiq is M'aiq."

She rolled her eyes a little, realizing the obvious, but pressed her blade a little closer to his neck and threw him a vicious gaze, "Why do you think I'm the Dragonborn?"

He held his hands up, by his head and stammered, "M'aiq heard the Dragonborn's shouting last night! M'aiq came to investigate and saw her fighting the bear and then heard her sing with a strange ghost."

She looked over his temple's robes and asked, "What are you? A priest of Mara? Arkay? Why are you out here?"

"M'aiq is merely a wanderer that grew hungry at the scent of the Dragonborn's cooking. M'aiq apologizes and did not mean to offend the Nordic Legend. Please spare M'aiq's life," he tilted his head back a little, trying to evade her prodding blade.

Rona looked him over a little more closely. He didn't appear to have any weapons on him, granted she knew Khajiit could definitely use their claws as a weapon if they really wanted to.

"Roll up your sleeves," she ordered. The Khajiit quickly pulled back both sleeves and she said, "Show me your wrists."

He flipped them out, presenting them to her. There were no marks on them, no sign of the Black Hand. She wasn't entirely sure if all Dark Brotherhood members had that mark or not, but she felt a little more relieved seeing him without one. She took a step back, pulling her blade away from his throat, but still held it out defensively, ready to attack in a moment's notice.

The Khajiit breathed a sigh of relief and pushed himself up, dusting the snow off his robes. Instead of pouncing to his feet and running away, however, he simply went right back to cooking over the fire. Rona stared at him, mouth parted slightly, utterly stunned.

"What are you doing?"

He looked up at her and smiled, "M'aiq is still hungry. Perhaps the Dragonborn would like to join M'aiq for breakfast?"

"You're crazy," she said. Just what she needed, another one of Sheogorath's people finding her and following her around.

"No, M'aiq is a Khajiit. Sit Dragonborn. M'aiq will show you how to cook a tasty snow bear," his grin widened displaying his pointed teeth. Her stomach gave a low growl at the smell of the sizzling food. She hadn't eaten much the night before, because her own skills with cooking were severely lacking. She'd overcooked the meat and it was tough and chewy, so she'd only taken a few bites before giving up and going to pass out. She really missed Bishop's cooking.

She shook her head, trying not to think of him and went around to the other side of the fire, taking a seat on a small wooden stump. She kept her eyes locked on the Khajiit and her sword in hand. Rona had learned the hard way, one too many times, that not everyone could be trusted. Her time alone and her many mistakes throughout her journey had left her feeling distrustful and wary of most people those days.

M'aiq started to hum a little, completely ignoring her staring. He sifted through his pocket and pulled out some spices, adding them to the food and flipped the pair of thick strips in the pan. He glanced up at her as he worked and his eyes seemed to travel over her fur wrap and he frowned a little, "Nord's armor has lots of fur. This sometimes makes M'aiq nervous."

She looked down at her fur wrap, then back at him and smirked, "I can assure you it's not made from a Khajiit. Pretty sure it's a sabre cat pelt actually."

This didn't seem to assuage his feelings on the matter, but he changed the subject abruptly, "M'aiq had heard the Dragonborn was dead. M'aiq spread the word but seeing as you are not dead this makes M'aiq a liar."

"Stop calling me Dragonborn. Just call me Jillian or Jill."

"That is not the name of the Dragonborn," M'aiq said.

"My name is Jillian," she snapped, "and as far as everyone is concerned, the Dragonborn _is_ , in fact, _dead_ ," she gripped her sword hilt tighter, giving him a firm look and said, "Are we clear on that?"

"M'aiq sees that the Dragonborn is just as fiery as the tales tell," he chuckled a little and then shut his mouth seeing the anger flash in her eyes. He cleared his throat and flipped the bear meat in the pan again, "M'aiq apologizes to the one calling herself Jillian. Perhaps he can offer his words of wisdom? M'aiq knows many things. What is your interest? If you seek knowledge M'aiq has much, some of it verified by actual facts!"

She knit her brows together. He didn't seem like the scholarly type, in fact, he seemed kind of… slow, especially referring to himself in the third person constantly. Still, she couldn't help but ask, "Do you know anything about these Dwemer ruins over here?" She motioned her head back, indicating the ruins of Mzinchaleft just up and around the snowy hill.

M'aiq looked up to where she was indicating and then back at her, throwing her a shifty grin, "The dwarves were there, and now they are not. They were very short folk... Or perhaps they were not. It all depends on your perspective. I'm sure they thought they were about the right height."

She scowled at him, "Everyone already knows about the dwarves. I mean, do you know if there's anything… _special_ about the ruins? Anything important inside?"

M'aiq seemed to think for a moment, scratching his chin with a claw and then shook his head, "Well… M'aiq is always in search of calipers, yet he finds none. Where could they have gone? M'aiq suspects they are inside the ruins."

Rona rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Of course. Just another strange wanderer with no real pertinent information.

M'aiq took the pan off the fire and looked around the camp. Rona realized he was searching for a plate or some other utensils. She got up, relaxing a little in his presence and sheathed her blade. She pulled two plates from her pack and handed them to him. He took them and slid the pieces of meat onto the plates then kindly passed her filled plate back and she gave him a knife and fork.

He immediately dug into his food while she just stared down at hers. It smelled really good and her stomach was groaning for it, but she was still unsure if it was safe to eat. He'd put some kind of spice onto it and she didn't know if it was poisoned or not.

M'aiq noticed her hesitation, holding a piece of cooked meat to his mouth on a fork and said, "Do not fear the flavor. M'aiq assures you that he was trained by the Gourmet himself and is an expert chef," he immediately took a bite and started cutting off another piece of tender meat.

Rona stared at him skeptically. Not because of the food anymore, but because she honestly didn't think she could trust a word coming out of this Khajiit's mouth.

But he was eating the same food he'd put the spices on, so she relented, giving in to her hunger and cut into her piece, taking a bite of it. Her eyes widened and she moaned a little. It was really good. On par with a real master. She started to wonder just what the hell that spice he used was. Maybe he wasn't lying...

They both ate in silence for a moment, with her just savoring having a real meal for once that wasn't mediocre and overpriced tavern food.

Then M'aiq started up the conversation saying, "M'aiq prefers to adventure alone. Others just get in the way. And they talk, talk, talk." Rona looked at him, raising a brow. And he grinned at her adding, "But M'aiq likes you. You are a quiet one."

She swallowed her bite and laughed a little, "I just don't have anyone to talk to these days."

"What about the dragons?"

"What do you mean?"

"M'aiq has heard that the-" he caught himself and said quickly, "that the one who calls herself Jill can speak to dragons."

She scoffed, slicing off another piece of her food, "I can, but the dragons aren't much for conversation."

"I have seen a dragon," he said.

"Where? Here? Nearby?"

His grin grew wider, "I won't say where I saw one," he took a quick bite, looking at his plate and added, "Perhaps I did not."

She made a face at him. Who _was_ this guy?

Then he said, "M'aiq heard that you use shouting to kill the dragons, yes?"

She nodded, starting to half-laugh at the strangest conversation she'd had in a long while.

He said, "M'aiq does not understand what is so impressive about shouting. M'aiq can shout whenever he wants."

Then she burst into a fit of giggles and put a hand to cover her mouth.

M'aiq gave her a very broad grin. At that point, she'd taken him for a comedian. She absolutely could not take this strange wanderer seriously.

"M'aiq is pleased he can make you laugh."

He took the last bite of his food and set his plate and utensils aside and stood up, "M'aiq thanks you for the meal. Farewell one who calls herself Jill."

Rona called to his back as he left, "Wait!" She tossed her plate aside and ran over to him, "You don't have to leave yet."

"But M'aiq is done talking," he said.

"You said you had knowledge and well... I'm looking for something." He looked at her expectantly and she finally asked, "Do you know anything about the Elder Scrolls? Like their whereabouts?"

M'aiq put a claw to his chin, turning his head up in thought before he finally shook his head and said, "The Elder Scrolls... they are strange things indeed. One cannot look upon them without going blind or mad, or so the tales tell. But no. M'aiq does not know where they are and why would he want to? M'aiq likes to see and prefers to keep his sanity."

He turned away again and she grasped his arm to stop him. He frowned at her and said, "M'aiq is tired now. Go bother somebody else."

She furrowed her brows at his remark, laughing a little, "I'm sorry. I just... I have a request."

He sighed, seeming rather annoyed at that point.

She pulled an envelope from her pocket and asked, "I was hoping you might deliver a letter for me."

"M'aiq is not a courier. M'aiq is a wandering Khajiit."

"I know," she said quickly, "But these days I can't trust the couriers. Too many letters being stolen with the war going on. I can pay you," she pulled a small coin purse out of her pocket, shaking it so that the coins inside clinked.

His eyes sparkled a bit and he grinned, "How can M'aiq be of service?"

"If you're ever in Falkreath, there's a small farm just outside the town on the road towards Helgen. You'll see a small house there and just beyond that is the farm overlooking Lake Ilinalta. My father lives there, he's an Altmer named Serlas, very tall, white hair and beard, long robes. You can't miss him. If you could deliver this letter to him I'd appreciate it a lot."

M'aiq took the letter and the coin purse and said, "M'aiq will see that it arrives in safe hands."

"Thank you so much," she said and then she made to leave and called back over her shoulder, "Oh and don't bother trying to read it. It's all in Aldmeri."

M'aiq pursed his lips then chuckled and said, "May your roads lead you to warm sands Dragonborn... or to whatever it is you are seeking."

(Background Music _At World's End_ by Faolan)

She ignored his use of her hated title and hurried along to pack up her camp and make her way to Dawnstar. She stopped by the ruins of Mzinchaleft keeping herself at a safe distance while she looked it over. As expected she saw at least a dozen or more bandits making their home there. They would be easy enough to dispose of, but in the meantime, they would get to keep their lives while she spent another few weeks preparing herself for the journey within that terrible place.

She continued to follow the road all the way to the sleepy town of Dawnstar, which had once been a sleepless town until she came through three months before and aided a Priest of Mara in ridding the Daedric Prince Vaermina's hold over the people. Together they found and destroyed the Skull of Corruption but it was not without Vaermina first trying to convince Rona that the staff could benefit her journey. It was just the same as Mephala. A Daedric Prince was using their powers of manipulation to try and control her, to tempt her to take some terrible object of power and use it to crush Alduin... but she would also have to use it to hurt the innocent, to make it stronger first.

Although she'd forgone both the Ebony Blade and the Skull of Corruption, she was now embracing another terrible Daedric artifact. She would have Mehrunes' Razor for herself and she swore she would not let anything stop her from taking it.

The minute she was in town she set to work taking on two of her given tasks for the Thieves Guild. While she never did excel in thievery, she had proven herself to be exceptional at forgery, so much so that Mercer Frey regularly relied on her to "cook their clients' books", as he put it. It wasn't all that difficult for her because she'd taught herself a spell that allowed her to write exactly like whoever previously wrote in the books. She kept that secret to herself, however, not wanting to give away the only thing that made her useful to the Guild and gave Frey a reason to keep her around.

For several months after joining the Guild she took on every Numbers job she could from Delvin and it gave her a chance to practice with her illusion spells and her lockpicking. She'd also had her boots enchanted to muffle her footsteps and she really was getting better at sneaking, but she was nowhere near the level of any of the other thieves.

Soon she arrived at the Dawnstar Barracks where the local jail was. It was her job to change the release date of one of the Guild's Eyes, a beggar by the name of Imus. While she wasn't too thrilled to be near another jail so soon she relented and entered the barracks. Rona immediately noticed the logbook sitting right by a Nord guard on his desk. She put on her friendliest demeanor as she walked up to him saying, "Good afternoon."

He returned her friendly smile with a welcoming one of his own and said, "Indeed it is. Is there something I can do for you miss?"

"I'm here to visit with my Uncle Imus. I just got in from Windhelm and well, when I'd heard he was in jail I came straight away!"

The guard raised a brow at her and glanced over at the cells where a balding Breton man in rags sat by the bars. The minute he saw her his face lit up and he cried, "Oh my dear niece! It's been so long! How are you? How's your mother?"

She did as she'd done so many times before and put on a show, "Oh she's just terrible right now Uncle Imus! Bedridden with the worst case of ataxia I've ever seen! I came to tell you that it's not looking good for her at all... but look what you've gone and done now, getting yourself thrown in jail!" Then she looked back at the still confounded guardsman and asked, "What did he do now? Steal someone's sweet roll?" She threw a hand to her mouth and gasped, "Don't tell me he was _lollygagging!_ "

The guardsman chuckled and said, "Hardly. He stole a sack full of finished ingots from the Quiksilver mine. Seemed to think he could make a swift septim selling them to the Khajiit caravans."

She started to scold him, throwing a hand to her hip and wagging a finger in his direction, " _Uncle Imus!_ How could you!?"

Imus merely looked at the ground, feigning his shame over what he'd done and muttered, "Oh please don't tell your mother, my dear. She'll be _so_ disappointed."

Rona quickly said to the guard, "Please, is there any chance he can be released soon? My mother - his _only_ sister," she added with emphasis, "She's very ill and wanted to see him one last time before she passes on." She started to get tearful. If there was one thing she'd gotten good at, it was faking tears.

The guardsman frowned at her and grabbed at his logbook, muttering, "Well... let's see how long he has on his stay and maybe..."

Rona panicked inwardly realizing he was about to review the actual release dates and she couldn't have that so she shouted, "By the gods! Uncle Imus! Are you alright!? Is it your heart!?"

The beggar got the hint and started clutching at his chest and cried out, "Oh! Oh! My heart! It is! Oh no!" He slumped to the ground and started thrashing around and sputtering like an idiot. Rona would have laughed if she wasn't trying so damn hard to keep the act up. So instead she threw her hands up and screamed, "Uncle Imus!"

The guardsman ran right over to check on him and in his moment of distraction she grabbed a quill, quickly flipped the logbook around, found Imus' name and traced a finger over his current release date, whispering an incantation to erase it. Then she ran her finger over a short line above that one, whispering another spell that gave her the ability to write the same. She scribbled out the new release date, spun the book back around and tossed the quill back on the desk.

As the guard looked over Imus, the beggar sat upright suddenly, throwing his arms out and shouted, "It's a miracle! I'm alive!"

Rona threw a hand to her mouth, stifling the snort of laughter coming up and quickly walked across the jail and knelt down by the bars whispering, "Oh Uncle Imus, thank the gods, I was so worried!" She looked back at the guard and pleaded with him, "Please tell me there's a chance he'll be released soon."

The guard gave her a sympathetic look and said, "Well... I... hang on."

He got up and strode back across the room and checked the logbook. She'd changed the date for tomorrow instead of a months' stay and the guard said, "Hm... it looks like he's meant to be released tomorrow evening. That's so odd. Could have sworn he was going to stay here longer. Guess Jarl Skald was feeling generous."

She pretended not to hear and clutched Imus' hands through the bars and said, "Don't you worry Uncle Imus, we'll get you out of here soon to see mother. She misses you so much, I just hope we make it in time."

"Is she terribly ill?"

"It's just awful Uncle."

Both were putting on their greatest act and she knew they had him when the guard gave a deep sigh and said, "Well... I suppose it won't matter too much if we release him now. What's one day, really?"

Rona leapt to her feet and cried, "Oh thank you!" She wiped a single tear from her eye and gave him her sweetest face of gratitude.

The guard chuckled again, grabbing his keys and unlocked the jail. Imus thanked him profusely and Rona put her arm around his waist as though helping him out. The pair left, while still jabbering nonsense about her sickly mother. The minute they were out of earshot of the guards behind one of the buildings on the far end of town they separated and she pulled a coin purse from her pocket and an envelope handing both to him, "Your pay and your new station."

Imus stuffed the coin purse in his pocket and ripped open the envelope then quickly read over the letter. He grinned, "Whiterun, eh? That'll be nice. Looking forward to getting out of this freezing cold for a change."

"No stealing ingots or anything else of real value this time," she said seriously.

"Oh _come on Jiiill_ ," he crooned wiggling a brow at her, "Where's the fun in that? By the way," he frowned suddenly, crossing his arms, "You're late. I was expecting you two days ago!"

She blushed turning her head away. He leaned around and got a look at her face, "You got distracted again didn't you? Damn it girl, you can't keep trying to overload yourself with mercenary work _and_ Guild work like that."

"For your information, I wasn't doing mercenary work. I was... _stealing_ something," she pursed her lips and averted her eyes.

"Got caught, didn't you?" He chuckled at her and she rolled her eyes. "That's a yes," he guessed, "Well be careful next time will you?"

"You going to tell him?" She asked quickly.

He sighed, "Nah... I'll let it go this time. Don't need you in any more trouble than you get yourself into already. Just next time don't leave me sittin' around rotting in one of these places. The food is shit."

"Tell me about it," she laughed.

He smirked at her and clapped her on the shoulder, "Take care of yourself Jill, and be sure to give Delvin my regards."

She waved him off as he headed towards the local carriage and she turned on her toe, making her next quick stop to the Mortar and Pestle where she was tasked with cooking the books for the proprietor, which made things a little easier since she didn't have to be sneaky about it.

Rona spent a good two hours going over the kind elderly woman's taxes and made a few things disappear from her records and a few others appear. A little rearranging of the woman's finances and everything was set in order. She bid the woman farewell and made her way to her final destination as the sun dipped a little lower, making it around four in the afternoon.

She suddenly found herself in front of the little home turned museum at the edge of town and took the stairs two at a time and quietly went inside. Silus Vesuius, the Imperial who'd hired her to collect the pieces of Mehrunes' Razor had his back to her as he busied himself with sorting through a pile of old Mythic Dawn antiquities. She glanced over at the glass case holding the three pieces he already had, the pommel, the broken blades, and the scabbard. She wondered if he knew how to repair it or if he just planned to display the broken object.

If he was just going to leave it in there then she would have to find a way to fix it herself and steal all the pieces at some point. She looked at his back again while he happily held up and looked over some tattered fabric that looked like Mythic Dawn banners. She cleared her throat to make her presence known, startling him as he dropped the fabric and spun around to look at her. He threw a hand to his chest and said, "By the Eight! Oh - Jillian, you're back," then he smiled widely and asked excitedly, "You found it?"

Rona pulled the hilt from her pack and handed it to him. He gladly took it and looked it over, smiling like a fool the entire time. "Wonderful... it's wonderful," he looked up at her and said, "Ah yes, your pay." He went over to his writing desk and pulled a thick coin purse from it, he made to hand it to her, but then pulled back suddenly and said, "You know Jill, it's time I let you in on a little secret."

Her heart leapt in her chest hopefully but she held her face as still as ever and said, "And what would that be? That you don't have the full amount we agreed on?" She narrowed her eyes at him and put a hand to one of her swords.

He quickly said, "What? No! Oh no... There is much _more_ gold to be had actually."

She crossed her arms asking, "And how's that?"

He looked absolutely giddy when he said, "I know how to put all the pieces together!" She did everything in her power to hide her own excitement, to keep up the Bishop-esque facade she'd created for herself. He carried on then as she looked at him expectantly, waiting, "We just need to take all the pieces up to Dagon's shrine and contact the Lord of Change directly."

She swallowed hard. She knew it was coming, that this was probably the next step, because who better to repair a broken Daedric artifact than the Daedric Prince that created it?

"You honestly believe you can contact a Daedra? And that he'll repair the dagger?"

"Oh definitely," Silus sounded very sure and Rona agreed. Especially with her there, the Dragonborn herself, she was positive that Mehrunes Dagon wouldn't be able to resist appearing before them in some form or other. She started to mentally prepare herself for the worst then.

"How do I fit into this?" She asked.

"Well," he said, "I am skilled with magic, but I've never been much of a fighter and the last thing I need is to get attacked and robbed on the road. You've proven yourself to be quite capable even as small as you are," she narrowed her eyes at him and he stumbled, "Er... not to say that," then he waved a hand, "Never mind that. What I'm saying is that I would like to hire you to escort me up to Dagon's Shrine. It's not very far from here. I'll pay you twice as much gold too. How's that sound?"

"Fine," she said firmly, sounding as though she was doing him a favor. He'd never realize that this is exactly what she wanted, what she'd been hoping for.

He smiled broadly and said, "Excellent! Let's go right away!" He ran around collecting his cloak as well as the rest of the pieces of the Razor and they set off. The entire trip there he rambled on and on about his family and how he felt as though this were some great destiny of his brought on by fate.

(Background Music _She Who Haunts the Shadows_ by Valentin Wiest)

Finally after two hours of walking and a one hour hike up the mountain they arrived at the terrifying shrine. Rona stared up at the horrific depiction of Mehrunes Dagon, literally a giant Daedric beast carved into the stone above them.

He loomed over them all, watching and waiting to bring his reign of terror back to Tamriel.

Silus immediately stepped over to a large stone table and placed the shards onto it, then held his hands up in prayer to the deity and said, "Mehrunes Dagon, the Lord of Change, we have brought your Razor to you. We beg you, please bring the blade's full glory to Tamriel again!"

There was nothing but silence however and Silus looked just as disappointed as she felt. Then he looked at her and grumbled, "Hmm... It's not working... maybe... why don't you give it a try?"

He moved out of the way and Rona put her hands on the altar and looked up at the Daedric Lord, feeling his eyes boring into her own. Then she gasped as she felt a painful burning sensation on her hands and tried to pull them away from the stone, but she was trapped there. She looked up again and saw that the enormous stone statue's eyes had lit like glowing fiery orbs. Then the entire thing started to crack and Silus took a step back startled as the stone pieces broke apart from the body and crumbled to the ground in front of them. In a second all of the pieces had dropped free and towering over them was a statue no more but a living breathing Daedric Lord, Mehrunes Dagon himself.

He stayed seated, however, perhaps not fully emerged in their realm and turned his head down to look right at Rona, his red lips curved into a wicked grin and his voice rumbled deep and low, "So... the Dragonborn finally comes to me. Seeking my guidance. I have to say, mortal, you are one worthy of speaking to, for it is you who has claimed the pieces of my Razor. It has been an amusing game to witness, Rona of Dragon Fangs."

She caught sight of Silus' stunned expression as he stared at her with utter confusion. She heard him murmur, "Dragonborn... but I thought..."

Dagon's powerful voice broke the air again though as he said, "But Dagon does not declare a winner while there is a pawn on the board," she watched in amazement then as the pieces of the Razor rose up and repaired itself right in front of her very eyes, "Take my Razor, Dragonborn. Kill Silus. Strengthen my Razor with his blood so that he and his family will have finally fulfilled their purpose."

The burning in her hands receded then and Rona stared at the dagger floating before her, then looked at Silus who was slowly backing away from her.

" _Kill him_ ," Dagon demanded her, "Take your rightful place as my champion Dragonborn, or I will _crush you_."

Silus put his hands out, "Wait... Wait, please. I - I didn't know! I had no idea you were the Dragonborn! Please, there's another way!"

Rona could literally feel the power emanating from the Razor, it was calling to her, demanding that she take its power for herself. The force it emitted was so much stronger than Mephala's and Vaermina's. She felt it in her in her entire being, lighting all her sense on fire with a terrible urge to kill. She reached out and took it and felt it burning the palm of her hand. She looked at Silus again, whose lips were trembling and he nervously readied his hands with crackling electrical magic.

She whispered, "I'm sorry, I'll make it quick."

"NO!" He roared and made to launch his magic at her when she shouted, "TIID KLO UL!" Time came to a complete halt and she bolted forward, ducking around the magical blast and buried the blade right into his throat.

Time broke free again and Silus stared at her with terror in his eyes. He gargled as blood trickled from his mouth and he slumped to the ground dead.

Rona took a step back and shuddered. She had just _murdered_ someone. She'd killed plenty of bandits before... but this was different. She'd murdered someone who didn't deserve it.

A sob caught in her throat as Mehrunes Dagon cackled above her and he said, "Now, now Dragonborn. You knew that it would come to this. You received fair warning. Yet still you tread along that path. But do not fret for I am pleased. Take my Razor and use it to wreak havoc on Tamriel! Ah... but there is no time to rest, however," he smiled wickedly at her as his body slowly turned to stone, "Allow me to give you one final challenge. Ha ha ha..."

His slow, cruel laughter boomed and rumbled across the mountainside as his entire body became stone once more. Then two portals opened before her and a hoard of Dremora poured out of them. She pulled herself up and gripped the Razor tighter in her hand. She grit her teeth furiously and ran forward reminding herself that her choices were her own. This was her fate. She would never bow down from the sorrow and she would face everything that came her way.


	3. Chapter 3 So Close

**Chapter 3**

 **So Close**

Rona sat at the edge of the mountain, holding the Razor out and spinning it in her palm while she pressed the tip with her other hand. A steady trickle of blood ran down her finger where the blade pierced through her flesh, but she was already covered in blood. Blood that came from a dozen Dremora and one innocent man.

She'd done so many terrible things up to that point. At least _she_ thought they were terrible. Joining the Thieves Guild had been an all time low for her. She hated stealing from others and it wasn't always thievery from the wealthy either. A lot of times she was tasked with stealing from people who were already struggling to make ends meet.

She often failed on her contracts back then, because she couldn't bring herself to do that to an innocent person, to someone who _definitely_ didn't deserve it. But even when Delvin put her on Numbers jobs, on forging official paperwork, she still had trouble coming to terms with it. She knew it was illegal and she knew it was wrong. So she started to bury herself, to build a new identity. She was no longer Rona the honest mercenary, she was Jillian, liar and thief extraordinaire. She pushed her moral code deep down inside herself and ignored it and it was fine. She got along well enough pretending to be someone she was not.

But all of that _never_ compared to this. Murdering someone, no matter how much she'd tried to justify it, went so against her entire being. This was not who she was, it was not who she wanted to be and yet here she was, a woman changed completely. A thief and a murderer.

She knew then that she would have to bury those feelings too if she ever wanted to end her journey. She'd been warned long ago that her path was clouded in pain and darkness, she'd even been told just that day by Jarl Ravencrone what would happen if she took the hilt of that cursed dagger and despite all of that, she gave in to temptation and took the newly repaired Razor anyway.

She stood up suddenly, tired of stewing in her own mind and sheathed the dagger to the hilt on her hip. She looked up at the crescent moon hanging in the clear sky and shouted, "OD AH VIING!"

Rona glanced over at Silus' body for a moment before quickly averting her eyes, choosing instead to lean against the stone table and stare at the ground while she waited.

After about five minutes she heard the tell tale roar of a dragon. She looked out and saw his figure illuminated by the low moonlight as he searched for her. She called again, "OD AH VIING!"

He locked eyes on her location and swept in, before lumbering down at the edge of the mountain. He greeted her, "Dremyollok, dovahkiin."

She replied in kind, "[Peace fire sky, my friend.]"

Odahviing looked over at the pile of dead Dremora and a throaty growl rumbled from him, "[I see you have been busy, young one.]"

"[Unfortunately]," she said sadly.

He looked at her curiously cocking his head but did not question her mood any further. Instead he asked, "[What can I do for you this evening Dragonborn?]"

"[I was hoping you could fly me to the Rift]," she said smiling up at him, "[I'm a bit overdue there already]."

He laughed a little, the way dragons do, making a deep noise that sounded more like a broken growl, "[I suppose I could accommodate your request]."

She grinned at him and said, "[I've got your favorite!]" She sifted through her pack and found the apple dumpling she'd stashed away for just this moment. She unwrapped the baked dessert and heated it a bit with her flames spell and held it out for him.

He seemed very pleased and opened his maw. She took a very brave step forward, as though it weren't a terrifying thing approaching a dragon with its jaw wide open and she placed the treat right on his tongue. She pulled her hand back and said, "[Go ahead]," he immediately closed his jaws and began to savor the delicious pastry, giving a low groan of pleasure.

Finally, he swallowed his food and said, "[You always know how to entice me young one... it is no wonder mortal males cannot resist the temptations of the females, for they make such delicious food.]"

Rona laughed and said, "[Anyone can make these, Odahviing. I didn't even make it, I bought it from a merchant.]"

"[Hmm]," he rumbled, "[I only wish I could learn to do the same]," he lowered his head then saying, "[Come along then. I shall take you to your desired destination young one.]"

"[Thank you Odahviing]," she quickly grasped his horn and climbed up onto his head. She held tight to his horns as he clambered off the cliff and took flight, soaring across Skyrim.

Rona leaned against his horn, feeling exhausted from her long day. She couldn't even enjoy the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair in that moment because her mind was bogged down with everything that had happened.

Odahviing seemed to sense it and said, "[So quiet this evening Dragonborn. What troubles you?]"

"[So many things, Odahviing, you already know this]," she was short with him. A bit too short.

"[Mortals seem to enjoy speaking with one another about their troubles, so I considered offering the same. If you wish to remain silent however, I will cease our discussion.]"

"[No]," she sighed, "[It's fine. I'm sorry, that was rude of me. It's just I... I killed someone today...]"

"[You are dragon kin. It is only natural that you would kill.]"

"[I may have the soul of a dragon, but I'm still human... I still feel guilt and sadness over it.]"

"[Yes... mortals feel many things that the dragons do not.]"

"[You never feel guilty about killing others?]" She asked.

"[Why would I feel such a thing for what is only natural to me?"]

"[What about sadness? Have you ever felt sad about anything?"]

He paused for a moment before he replied, "[When AleileAuryne died... I felt a great pain of loss. I believe I felt... what you call sadness.]"

She remembered him mention her a long time ago, when they first met. Aleile had been a half-Breton, half-Nordic woman who was once Dragonborn too. But she had befriended Odahviing much the same way Eira befriended Paarthurnax. She'd even taught him how to sing, something which was nearly impossible for a dragon. She wondered then...

"Did you love her?" Rona asked him in Cyrodiilic, because there was no word for love in the language of the dov, in Dovah-Zul.

Odahviing let out a breathy laugh and said, "No, dovahkiin. I am not like my brother Paarthurnax. I cannotcomprehend that _haalvut_... that feeling."

"Then what did you feel for her?"

"Hmm," he paused again, thinking deeply before he finally said, " _Fahdon_."

"Friendship? Companionship?"

" _Geh_ ," he nodded his head slightly, "Aleile was my _fahdon_ , my friend. I enjoyed her company. It is not often that us dov can be in each other's company for long. Our desire to _rel_... to dominate is too strong. There were many times in which I was in the company of another dov and they would be overcome with their desire to dominate and claim my territory for themselves and they would attack me."

"You don't feel that way with me though?"

" _Nid_. It is different with the dovahkiin. As a _joor_ you have no desire to take my territory for yourself and I sense no _bah_... no wrath from you young one. You do not wish to harm me and I am grateful for this. I enjoy your company well enough that I allow you to treat me like a steed."

Rona laughed and grasped onto his horn, leaned over his headand looked into his eye, "Sorry about that. _Krosis_ ," she added.

His jowls curled into a grin, "You are forgiven dovahkiin... so long as you continue to bring me your divine mortal foods I will gladly carry your tiny, wingless body across Skyrim."

She laughed again, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She settled back onto his head and said, "I enjoy your company too Odahviing. I want you to know that. You've been a good friend to me. _Aankulfahdon_."

He did not reply to this, but he gave a low growl that reminded her of the pleased purr of a cat. It wasn't long before he spoke up again however saying, "We are near the Rift dovahkiin. I will land a short way outside the city so as not to... _disturb_ the _joor_."

"That's fine," she said. She gripped his horns tighter as he dove downward and landed in the middle of a clearing among the Rift's forests about a half mile from Riften. Rona hopped off of his head and put a hand to his nose, "Thank you Odahviing."

"If you should need of me again young one you may call on me. I will linger nearby as always."

"I appreciate that," she said with a kind smile then she bid him farewell, " _Erei mu grind_."

" _Pruzahwundunne_ ," he replied and flapped his wings, lifting himself off the ground again before soaring away in the night.

She turned towards the path and started making the trek back to Riften. She was tired and ready to pass out, but knew she would have to speak to Delvin first and was not looking forward to the lecture she already knew he'd be giving her. She entered the city and immediately turned to the left, taking the back alley towards the hidden entrance. The moment she arrived at the mausoleum entrance she was hit with the colorful swirling light of a dragon's soul.

It startled her at first and then she scoffed and breathed a sigh of relief, glad that it hadn't hit her in the midst of a crowd, as it did a few times before. It wasn't the first or the last time she would take the soul of an unknown, nearby dragon. It had been happening a lot lately on her travels. She had a feeling, now that people believed that the Dragonborn was dead, they'd started learning how to kill the creatures themselves.

She was glad for it. Not only did it mean one less dragon she'd have to face off against, but it meant that people were learning to take care of themselves and not rely on some mysterious hero to come rescue them.

Rona allowed the light to fade and then felt around for a trick switch on the underside of the edge of the coffin lid and then pressed a hand to the diamond symbol in the center of the sarcophagus in front of her. Both switches had to be pressed at the same time or it would not open. In seconds, the whole thing quietly drew back, revealing a set of stairs below. She quickly descended them and yanked on the wall chain, resetting the hidden entrance for the next person. Then she dipped her index finger into a small bottle of ointment and practically basted her nostrils with the creamy gel.

The overpowering scent of mint permeated her sense of smell, but it was absolutely necessary for anyone hiding out in the Ratway because that place was a literal sewer and one of the most disgusting places she'd ever had the displeasure of living in.

She quickly descended the ladder into the vertical tunnel and came out the other side into the main headquarters and hideout of the Thieves Guild. It was an enormous antechamber underneath the Riften marketplace and they aptly called it the Cistern. She glanced around. It was pretty quiet that time of night, most of the thieves had already left for the evening to take care of some jobs, although a few others were passed out on some of the beds scattered around the room.

Rona did see Niruin, Sapphire and Etienne still up however. Niruin a Bosmer, was busy practicing his marksmanship in a corner of the room, like always. Sapphire never seemed to sleep at all from what Rona could tell. When the woman wasn't off stealing from and blackmailing her marks she would be hanging around the Cistern looking pissed off most of the time. She assumed it was to deter the men from bothering her, although it rarely worked as some still found the nerve to flirt with her before she'd throw them against a wall and press her knife to their throat and threaten to cut their balls off.

Etienne was a Breton she'd actually helped rescue from the Thalmor Embassy over half a year ago. She was worried he'd recognize her when she first arrived there, but his eyes had been nearly swollen shut when they last met and the man seemed to suffer from a poor memory after his horrible experience with the Thalmor.

Rona walked by Sapphire whose eyes widened at the sight of her and she said, "What in Oblivion happened to you woman?"

Rona looked down at herself. She was still covered in blood from her fight with the Dremora and muttered, "Shit… er… long story."

"Well, Delvin's been looking for you."

"Yeah I figured."

"He's pretty pissed off. Might want to hurry up and just get it over with short-stuff."

Rona nodded her head and hurried along through the Cistern, stopping by a wash basin with actual clean water in it. She quickly rinsed her face and hands off and then went through the tunnel leading to the Ragged Flagon. She came up to Delvin's usual table where he was seated, sipping on a tankard of ale, done with sorting through his contracts that evening.

She went around the table, pulled up a chair and sat down, quickly wiping the slimy coating from her hands onto her leathers. Delvin looked at her with half-lidded eyes and said, "Well, well. Look who finally decided to show her face round here."

"I know I'm late," she started but he held a hand up and stopped her.

"Late, doesn't even come close Jill. Those jobs were so damn easy. Shoulda been in an' out in less than two days, yet here you are _six_ days later. So tell me. What was it this time? Some family get stuck in a burning house and you just couldn't resist rescuing 'em all _and_ helping them rebuild?" Rona scowled at him and he gave an irritated laugh, "Oh wait, no, lemme guess, you found yourself stuck in the middle of a battlefield while the Imperials and the Stormcloaks came out of nowhere and started fightin' with each other."

"Hey!" She snapped, "That _actually_ did happen once."

"Right. Sure," he scoffed, taking a sip from his tankard. Then he shook his head, "What am I going to with you, woman? You're damn lucky you're even still here, but you're walking on thin ice."

"Does Mercer know?" She asked furrowing her brows.

"No," he said firmly, "And he ain't going to find out. But if he does somehow, I'm done sticking my neck out for you," then he leaned in and said, "You know I took you in outta the goodness of my own heart," she looked at him with half-lidded eyes and he smirked slightly, "Well, whatever small amount that's in there. So be honest with me... was it dragons?"

"No Delvin, ugh," she scoffed, throwing her head back, "No, it wasn't dragons."

"Then what in Oblivion was keepin' yah?"

" _I..."_ she drew the word out, hesitating and keeping her eyes off of him, "had to steal something..."

A wry smile started to perk at the corners of his mouth and he snorted a laugh, " _You_. Had to steal somethin'? Why do I find that so damn hard to believe? Oh right, because you're the most piss-poor thief I've ever known in my entire life!"

Rona was grateful then that the only people present were Dirge, Vekel and Vex and they were all smart enough to ignore the tongue lashing she was receiving at that moment.

"Alright then," he said, "So what did you steal?"

"Nothing," she said truthfully as she met his eyes that time. Delvin looked at her skeptically and she quickly added, blushing a little, "I didn't steal anything because I got caught."

"Oh. Well. At least that makes sense then," his tone was short and snippy,"You were late because you were wasting all your time, _doing time._ " He paused a moment, taking a sip of his ale and then said, "Need to work on your straight-face by the way. Your tells are showing."

"I'm not lying," she argued.

"Oh and why not? Thought I taught you better than that," he chuckled through his tankard.

She slumped in her chair, crossed her arms and grumbled, " _Because_ you'd have just heard all about it from Urfen since that idiot can't keep his mouth shut about anything."

"The 'ell were you doing in Morthal!?" He snapped at her, making her jump.

She groaned inwardly realizing her slip and mumbled, "Dragonborn business Delvin…

Their eyes met and she gave him a sincere look and then he sighed, exasperated and put a hand to his head. "Still scoping out those ruins then?"

"Yeah, but I need to keep practicing my lockpicking. I'm not as good with it as I'd like to be."

He smirked at her," _Perfect_. I've got a coupla contracts that need just that."

Rona frowned at him and muttered, "But I just got back."

"Yeah, _four days late_. We've got piles of Numbers jobs and unfortunately you're the best we've got. So all our clients keep asking for _you_."

She scrunched her face at him. She'd wanted to stay there for a few days at least, take a break and practice her lockpicking with Vex, then she was going to stock up on supplies and make the trip back to Dawnstar and try her luck in the ruins of Mzinchaleft.

She groaned pleading with him under her breath, " _Dragonborn_ business Delvin. This is important."

" _So_ are these contracts," he said as he cheerily pulled out a stack of papers from a pile on the floor and started shuffling through them, "You can't keep using your damn little destiny as an excuse to get out of workin' for the Guild either. When I took you in you swore up and down you'd _work_. Well it's about time you did just that and no flouncing off to save people from dragons, or find their old boots they left in some cave, or whatever the 'ell else it is you always get distracted doing out there, with your singing and what-not."

"Send me to Morthal," she said quickly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, "What, so you can go plunging into that nasty Dwemer ruin over there? Yeah, I don't think so, Jill. Gonna get yourself lost in there for days. No, you're going to do these three contracts out in Windhelm and then you can come back and fuck around with Vex picking locks and shit to your heart's content. _Then,_ after _that,_ you can run off and take care of whatever you have to take care of. But for now, _you owe me_."

She exhaled sharply from her nose and pursed her lips, scowling at him. He handed her the contracts detailing the Numbers jobs she was meant to take care of in Windhelm and then he said, "Oh and if I were you, I'd get moving right now."

"But it's the middle of the night," she protested.

"Well these were due yesterday," he smirked at her, "So run along my little forger."

She grumbled, stuffing the paperwork into her pocket and glared at him. He only met her glare with a smarmy grin, showing off the gap in his teeth and then she stormed off, heading right back the way she came.

As soon as they heard the hidden door in the back close over, Vekel spoke up and said, "You're too hard on her."

Delvin sighed and said, "Well she'll never learn anything if I go easy on her."

"Girl's got a lot on her plate already being... well you know."

"Being what?" Dirge asked from across the way.

Delvin finished off his ale and replied, "Being too stubborn for her own damn good."

Dirge didn't seem to get it; he'd always been pretty thick in the head. He just grunted and continued his steady stare at the Flagon's entrance.

Delvin had recognized Rona the moment they met five months ago when she came to him asking for work and a place to stay. When he'd told her that he knew who she was, that she was the Dragonborn she immediately confided in him. The poor girl spilled her guts about everything. Her journey, her fate, the end of the world nonsense and all the utter insanity about the dragons and the World Eater. She'd told him every horrible detail and begged him to train her in thievery to teach her to lockpick and sneak around and help her with her illusion training.

He really had taken pity on the girl, distressed as she was and he hated the fact that he was starting to care about her, like a father would to his brat of a child, granted he felt that way about a lot of the thieves there. He wanted to see her do better and he worried for her constantly knowing who she was and what she had to do, especially when she'd come back doing gods knew what, covered in blood and ripped to shreds half the time.

He'd noticed earlier that she'd missed a few spots cleaning the blood from her face. Whatever had pulled her attention away from those contracts, it probably wasn't good. Of course he'd never show his concern, but she was family now and he'd swore to her that he'd always have her back. He could hardly believe the fate of the world had been dropped onto the shoulders of that tiny little elf.

Vex was the only other one who knew the whole story too, because she'd also recognized her. At Delvin's request Vex reluctantly took the girl under her wing, doing her best to train her in everything from lockpicking to sneaking and pickpocketing while Delvin trained her speechcraft. He showed her how to lie right through her teeth, which she did surprisingly well and mastered very quickly. Although it amused him that she seemed to struggle with lying to him, always letting her pathetic tells go in his presence, with the blushing and the averting of the eyes.

Vekel was the only other one who knew she was Dragonborn and only because he'd overheard her and Delvin talking about it so many times. He knew to keep his mouth shut though and kept it to himself.

Delvin pushed his chair back and stood up, yawning, ready to turn in for the night when the sound of a dog barking loudly from the Flagon entrance caught his attention.

Bishop was laying on his bedroll by a small campfire just staring at the slowly rotting corpse of the dragon he'd killed the day before. The waiting game was the worst of it. He usually gave it two or three days before he gave up because the smell and the vermin crawling around were too much to bear.

The farmer and his wife had been kind enough to feed him that morning and that evening while he waited around watching the thing, convincing them that it might actually spring back to life, which was a complete lie on his part. He'd never seen a dragon come back after he killed it. The only time that ever happened was when Alduin was around and thankfully in all his travels he hadn't come across the black beast of Oblivion.

They'd wanted to move the carcass off the Snow-Shod property though, cut it apart and start to bury it or something but he insisted they leave it for a day, lest it revive and attack them in the process of dissecting it.

With those things in mind the two of them left well enough alone and he got to hang around on their property just waiting. It was getting pretty late in the evening and he was slowly starting to nod off, but his desire to keep his eyes on the thing was keeping him up.

"Arrow?" An older woman's voice said above him. He looked up to see the farmer's wife, Leonara. She was holding a small plate with steaming vegetables and a piece of spice beef on it, "You're still awake? You've been staring at that thing all day and night. Are you really sure it will come back to life?"

"You can never be too careful," Bishop said as he pushed himself up and sat cross legged on his bedroll.

"Here dear, I brought you something. I thought you might be hungry," she knelt down and passed him the plate of food which he took gratefully and immediately started to dig into. Then she asked tentatively, "How much longer do you think we'll have to wait before we can move it off the property? The Snow-Shod family won't be happy to see it here and we're expecting Vulwulf Snow-Shod to pay a visit in the next day or so…"

"That's all I need is another day," he said adamantly, "Just to be sure. After that, tear it down and bury it if you want."

In that moment, however, they both heard a strange crackling sound and looked over to see the flesh of the dragon slowly starting to burn. Leonara shrieked in terror, throwing her hands up to her face crying, "Is it happening!? Is it coming back!?"

Bishop's heart was pounding in his chest and he ignored the woman completely. He threw his plate aside and started digging around his pack while keeping his eyes glued on the dragon carcass as its entire body burned up and its soul whisked off straight into the walls of the city.

"I fucking knew it," he muttered. He yanked out a tightly wound swatch of tanned pelt and quickly undid the band on it. In seconds he pulled out a bright red day dress from the cloth and he whistled sharply calling Karnwyr to him. He held the dress up for the wolf to smell and immediately Karnwyr looked back towards Riften and started barking. Bishop wrapped the dress back up, tying it tightly, buried it back into his pack and rushed off without a word to the very distressed elderly woman.

There was a guard standing by the gates eyeing him warily and Bishop just gave him a short nod, pulling one of the doors open and allowing Karnwyr to belt off into the city. The second he was out of sight of the guard and behind the door he kicked off the ground chasing after his companion. Karnwyr led him to the other side of the Hall of the Dead and into a stone mausoleum. He started wagging his tail, scratching at the stone sarcophagus in front of them and whining. Bishop's heart nearly tore in half – _she's inside a coffin!?_ No… that couldn't be right. If she were in there, then why would her body take the soul of the dragon just now and not earlier?

He started looking around the room for a sign of her, for a clue, for _anything_. But Karnwyr just whined and whimpered at the coffin and sniffed at the strange diamond shape in the center. Bishop knelt down and ran a finger over the carving. He recognized it for what it was, a Thieves Guild Shadowmark. He'd never really made the effort to memorize them like he should have. He started thinking hard about the layout of the city and realized that if there were a hidden entryway in that room it would lead straight down under the city into the Ratway.

He pushed on the carved mark, but it didn't budge. He didn't have time to waste trying to figure out how to get into the hidden entrance. She was there, right now, under his feet down in the Ratway. She had to be. He whistled for Karnwyr again and quickly ran back towards the south gates and took the stairs leading down into the most well-known Ratway entrance.

He swept inside with Karnwyr beside him, although the wolf seemed to want to head back the way they came, no doubt because she was using their secret entrance and not the tunnels. He could hardly believe it. Rona was Thieves Guild. It was hard to imagine her doing that kind of work but desperate times called for desperate measures. He raced through the passages and stopped short where the bridge leading across the way was supposed to be, but it was currently up. He swore under his breath and looked around. He'd have to take the long way through the tunnels because he was definitely not athletic enough to try and pounce off walls like Rona could.

He carefully hopped down below and turned back, motioning for Karnwyr to jump into his arms. The wolf took a brave leap and Bishop grunted, catching his heavy friend then set him down. He hurried through the winding tunnels then and stopped short at the sounds of someone talking in an open room just beyond.

They were jabbering nothing but nonsense and Bishop grumbled to himself, "Of course… more lunatics."

He peered around the corner and saw a rather large balding man dressed in rags. One notable thing about him however was that he was wearing some glowing enchanted gauntlets.

He didn't want to risk Karnwyr being hurt so he looked down at his friend and firmly whispered, "Stay."

Karnwyr silently wagged his tail, affirming that he understood the command and Bishop snuck into the room, pulling his dagger from its sheath. He was nearly at the back of the lowlife when he slipped on some oil on the ground, "Shit!" He caught himself but gave away his position with his loud swearing. The lunatic spun around, swinging hard and caught Bishop right in the left cheek, forcing him to lumber back.

He didn't even get a chance to catch his breath when the man barreled in, fists flying and got him right in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. This man could hit _hard_. He knew it was because of those damn gauntlets too, it had to be.

As the bastard was preparing to come down on him with both hands, laced together Bishop rushed him, throwing his entire body against the man. They both slipped on the oil and slammed onto the ground, with Bishop still on top of the lowlife. The man was fast though, already bringing his arms up to punch him again. Bishop roared at the top of his lungs, "ATTACK!" as he threw his arms up, covering his face from the flurry of punches being thrown against him.

Karnwyr flew in, fangs bared, growling and buried his canines right into the swinging arm of the lowlife. That lunatic barely felt it though, grunting a little and then punched poor Karnwyr right in the nose, sending him yelping back.

"NOBODY TOUCHES MY WOLF!" Bishop roared as he slammed his blade right into the chest of the man under him. This time the bastard gasped, feeling the pain and Bishop was sure he had him until he met with another fist to the gut and then the lowlife grabbed him by the collar of his leathers and threw him off. Bishop rolled and slid through the slick oil on the ground, landing on his hands and knees. He looked over and saw the lunatic slipping and struggling to get up from the coated ground and then he noticed a lantern hanging up above in a clay pot. He quickly drew his bow and shouted at Karnwyr, "RETREAT!"

The wolf barked and ran back down the corridor that they came through and Bishop lined up his sights and sent his arrow flying straight through the rope holding the clay lantern up. It came crashing down and completely ignited the oil on the ground. The lowlife was engulfed in flames and Bishop carefully pushed himself off the ground, enduring the heat from the fire that was suddenly on him, but with his enchanted armor it did little damage.

He stood back and watched as the lunatic writhed in pain, rolling around on the ground only making it worse as he splashed through more lit oil. He'd have taken pity on the man and put him out of his misery if he wasn't so pissed off. The side of his face and his arms were throbbing like a bitch and he was feeling a little vengeful over that. Finally, after a few more minutes the man stopped moving and slumped over, then the fires went out as the oil finished burning up.

He was rubbing his cheek and looked over the burned corpse. The gauntlets were completely undamaged and still glowing from their enchantment. He knelt down and yanked them off the body and stuffed them into his pack. Then he whistled for Karnwyr and continued his way through the putrid sewers, luckily with no more obstacles. The minute they arrived at the door to the Ragged Flagon Karnwyr started sniffing around the area and barking madly. He'd picked up her scent again.

He pawed at the door, looking back at Bishop and barked as if to say, _She's here_. Bishop's heart was in a knot at the thought of seeing her again. He pushed the door open and stepped into the Flagon. It looked just the same as ever, although a little less lively at that time of night. Karnwyr immediately ran around the stinking cistern and padded up right past their huge bouncer. He started sniffing around a table and barked again.

Bishop noticed Delvin standing there, in front of his usual spot and the only other three people in the Flagon that evening were the bartender, the bouncer and the woman he remembered who killed the Thalmor Justiciar that had been looking for them months ago. Bishop slowly approached them, going up the wood planks leading to the bar area. Naturally he was stopped by the huge brute guarding the way, "Bit late to be conducting business."

"S'alright Dirge, let 'im through," Delvin said with a smirk.

Bishop sidled around the big guy and went over to the table. Delvin took his seat again, casually throwing his arm over the back and asked, "Been a while Bish. So what brings you down to the Flagon so late this evenin'? Lookin' to buy or sell?"

Bishop looked at Karnwyr who was still taking in the scent at the chair and he was really running his nose over it too. She'd been there recently.

Delvin was eyeing the wolf too and said, "Mind wranglin' your mutt so we can have a proper chat?"

"Sit," Bishop commanded and Karnwyr whined a little but immediately sat down at his feet. He kept sniffing at the chair from his spot on the ground though. Bishop took the chair for himself and sat down looking dead serious at Delvin and said, "I'm here to buy. You have information I want."

"Oh? And what information would that be?"

"Tell me where the Dragonborn is."

Delvin chuckled at him, "You 'aven't heard? Word is the Dragonborn's dead."

"You and I both know that's horseshit," Bishop said narrowing his eyes at the man, "I know she's here. So, how much do you want?"

Delvin chuckled, "For what?"

"For her. How much gold do you want to drag her ass in here and hand her off to me?"

Delvin laughed a little louder and called over to the woman standing by and said, "You hearing this shit Vex? Man's offering to pony up for a corpse."

Bishop slammed his fists on the table and roared, "She's _not_ fucking dead! Don't you DARE peddle that shit to me!"

Delvin lowered his brows and said warningly, "I'd watch myself if I were you, Bish. Making Dirge a little antsy over there."

Bishop glanced back at the bouncer, who was staring him down and cracking his knuckles. He turned back to Delvin and said, "Name your fucking price you piece of shit."

"What? So you're just rollin' in gold now, eh?"

"What do you want? Five thousand? Ten? Fucking name it."

Delvin studied him for a moment and said, "Damn. You're really serious aren't you? The hell are you doin' these days to make that kind of gold?"

Bishop stood up then and yanked a heavy coin purse from his pack and threw it onto the table, "Fifty thousand gold, in full. _Now where is she?_ "

Delvin just gaped at the pile of glittering gold that had spilled onto his table. Bishop could tell the man was seriously considering his loyalties then. Would he sell her out for that hefty sum or would he stay loyal to one of his own?

Delvin smirked, shaking his head a bit and sighed looking Bishop right in the eyes, "Really wish I could help you lad. Hard to pass up that much gold, but unfortunately, I don't have the information you're lookin' to buy."

Bishop was thunderstruck. He could hardly believe that this _thief_ chose to protect her over taking an obscene amount of gold sitting right in front of him. Then he thought that maybe Delvin was trying to squeeze more out of him... or maybe it was something else. Rona always did have a way with winning over most people, befriending people that would have otherwise been her enemy.

Bishop took the coin purse back and stuffed it deep into his pack and said, "I appreciate what you're doing for her. That you'd choose to guard her secrets over taking the gold. But I am _this_ fucking close," he held his forefinger and thumb up, barely touching them together, "to finding her and I won't let _anyone_ stop me," he looked right at Karnwyr and commanded, "Find her."

Karnwyr barked and leapt up and started sniffing across the room, running right past Delvin, who'd jumped from his seat and threw Bishop back as he attempted to follow his wolf down the corridor beyond the Flagon.

Bishop reeled backwards, right into Dirge's thick arms. He started thrashing around, trying to escape the man's hard grip on him when Delvin snarled furiously, "Get him out of here. I don't want to see his ugly mug in my Ratway again."

"I KNEW SHE WAS HERE! YOU CAN'T KEEP HER FROM ME!" Bishop roared.

Delvin jut a finger at him and growled, "I see you down here again and I won't hesitate to gut you myself. You understand me?"

"KARNWYR! ATTACK!" Bishop was desperate, he'd even risk the life of Karnwyr to find her. He was so fucking close. She was right there. She had to be.

Karnwyr turned back, growling viciously as the bartender and the woman slowly approached the wolf. When he started foaming at the mouth though the bartender seemed to get cold feet and backed away, "I - I don't want to mess with this mutt. He looks rabid."

Vex scoffed and said, "Don't be such a pussy Vekel," she pulled a small diamond shaped dart from her pocket and dipped it into a bottle strapped to her belt. Then she grabbed Vekel by the arm and threw him forward, right at Karnwyr. He looked incredulously at her as he fell right at the wolf's feet, who made to pounce on him and then she sharply threw the dart right into Karnwyr's neck, making him yelp from the biting pain.

Vekel tried to scramble away when Karnwyr regained his senses for a moment and made to attack again, but the wolf immediately wobbled and his tongue lolled out of his mouth stupidly as he slumped over in a heap.

"KARNWYR!" Bishop roared, trying to pull free from Dirge's hard grasp, "IF YOU KILLED HIM I SWEAR-!"

"Oh shut it," Vex said crossing her arms over and scowling at him, "He's just paralyzed. He'll live."

"You fucking bitch," Vekel gawked at her, catching his breath.

"What? I needed a distraction and I didn't want to get bit," she smirked a little at him.

Delvin went over and stooped down, hoisting the wolf up onto his shoulder with a grunt. He joined Dirge in hauling both Bishop and Karnwyr back through the tunnels and tossed them right out onto the wooden walkway leading around the filthy river.

Bishop scrambled over to Karnwyr and looked him over. Aside from the dart in his neck he seemed fine, he was still breathing at least. He looked up at Delvin, glaring harshly at the man as he dug through Bishop's pack, yanking out the coin purse. Delvin took a handful of the gold pieces before throwing his pack and coin purse back at him and said, "I'll be takin' this. Consider it payment for makin' me haul your mutt's ass all the way out here. And don't you dare think about showin' your face 'round the Flagon again. I see you down there and you won't live to regret it."

Bishop scoffed and said, "You won't hurt me. You can't, because you know she'll roast you all alive if you do."

"Don't fucking test me ranger," Delvin snarled, his lip curling a bit, "Now piss off."

The two of them turned back into the tunnels, firmly shutting the door behind them.

Bishop caught his breath and leaned back against the slimy stone wall. He wasn't about to let this opportunity to go to waste. She was there in the Ratway, somewhere and he knew where she was coming and going from at least. He'd stay in the city, keep watch on that hidden entrance and wait for her. Sooner or later she'd be coming or going and he'd finally have her in his arms again.

Still... he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do once he had her. She'd already proven that he couldn't keep a hold on her, she had a shout that made it all too easy for her to slip away, not to mention illusion magic she could use to make herself disappear. If anything she'd just run away again... but he had to try. To just talk to her, to just _see_ her again. He'd give anything for another moment with her.

Bishop looked over at Karnwyr, who was slowly coming to. The wolf panted a bit and looked around confused. Bishop got up and clicked for his wolf, leading him back up the stairs. He'd get a good night's rest at the Bee and Barb and then find a concealed spot to scope out the mausoleum from. He'd waited this long to find her, what was another day or two?


	4. Chapter 4 Dancing With Death

_A/N: Sorry about the previous update. Looks like my computer had a heart attack and decided to upload my file as pure code. I have now fixed it!_

As Bishop rounded up the stairs and moved along the path, an extremely distressed woman and several guards went rushing past him.

"Please hurry!" The woman cried, "Her body its-" she threw a hand to her mouth, "Oh gods... I - I forgot about the children!"

Bishop looked back and saw her leading the guards into the orphanage. In seconds the woman was escorting a group of very thrilled children off the premises and outside.

"Grelod's dead!" The only girl in the group giggled madly.

"I can't believe Aventus did it!" One of the boys said.

"I love the Dark Brotherhood!" Another boy threw his hands up and cheered.

The woman knelt down beside them all, shushing them and tried to mutter under her breath, but her shakiness and shock prevented her from staying quiet, "Shh, shh! Don't talk like that. You all need to be quiet now."

"But Grelod's finally dead Constance! It's amazing! It's like my Saturalia present came early this year and it was actually good!"

"Yeah!" The little girl giggled, "It wasn't a stupid lump of coal or a stale sweetroll!"

"Hey, Hroar," one of the boys said poking his peer, "You saw it happen, didn't you? We heard Grelod find you but what happened after that?"

Hroar's lips twisted into a broad grin when he said, "Yeah, Grelod had me, she made me drop my pants and started whipping me for spilling her wine earlier, but then she stopped for a minute and when I looked back this assassin had their dagger stuck right in her throat! It was amazing!"

Constance stared at the boy horrified and then she whispered loudly, "You saw the perpetrator Hroar!? Hurry, tell me, what did he look like?"

Hroar crossed his arms thinking hard for a minute, "You know it was kinda hard to see. I'm pretty sure it was a lady, but she had a cowl covering her head. She was really short though," he smirked, "She had to yank on Grelod's old mop just to drag her down to her height. Honestly, I was surprised, I always thought assassins would be taller for some reason."

"It's probably stealthier to be small!" The little girl declared.

Bishop's stomach turned and he felt a lump in his throat. Could Rona have murdered someone? Had the Dark Brotherhood found her and finally recruited her? Or did she go out of her way to find them? To try and better hide from him and anyone else searching for her?

No... there were plenty of people just as short as her, if not shorter. That was hardly much of a description to go on.

"Hroar," Constance said, grasping his shoulders, "You need to come with me, I need you to tell everything you saw to the guards. And you three, behave yourselves and for the love of Mara keep your voices down. This is nothing to be happy about, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Constance..."

"Sorry, Constance..."

They watched as she ushered Hroar back into the orphanage and then they went back to quietly chattering to themselves, each of them smiling widely. Bishop turned away from them and continued down the path towards the Bee and Barb. He sympathized with them. He knew what it was like to live under the cruel abuses of a caretaker and the overwhelming feeling of relief that came when that person was finally dead.

Still, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd just missed Rona. That she'd just been there and that she may have done something horrible. He shook it off. No. Rona was doing a lot of questionable things, thievery maybe, but she'd never murder someone. It just wasn't in her nature.

 **\- 30 Minutes Ago -**

Rona went back up through the hidden passageway and stepped out into the night. She made sure to kick the hidden wall switch on her way out, resetting the entryway once again.

She started to wander towards the rear exit of the city, her mind swirling with a mix of thoughts. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but the sooner she called on Odahviing and got to Windhelm the sooner she could rent a room at Candlehearth Hall and pass out. She didn't care how urgent Delvin made it sound, those damn contracts could wait until morning.

As she passed by the orphanage she heard the sound of quiet whimpering. She stopped by a low wall with iron wrought fencing across it, which closed in a small yard. She noticed one of the little boys who lived there sobbing in a corner behind a dead shrub.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen one of the children trying to hide from the cruel headmistress, ironically named Grelod the Kind. She absolutely pitied them and wanted nothing more than to rescue all of them from the abuses they faced daily, but considering her current predicament and her own lack of finances and living arrangements there was little she could do for any of them.

She opened her mouth and made to say something to the boy, to give him comforting words when the door suddenly opened, letting the warm light from inside out. Rona ducked down behind the fencing as the vicious witch, Grelod, stepped outside and hissed, "Hroar! Where are you damn it!? Don't think you can hide from Grelod you little bastard. If you make me come out there I'll be sure the welts take months to heal instead of weeks. Now get in here you little shit."

(The music is _Voices Of War_ by X-Ray Dog)

Rona felt her pulse quicken in anger and she involuntarily clutched at the dagger on her hip. The little boy didn't reply, he only shuddered in fear and cried harder. Grelod was not amused. She stepped out into the small yard, holding a thin switch in her hand. It was her instrument of pain and torture. She looked around and saw him cowering behind the bush and snapped, "I warned you once, I won't warn you again. Now drop your drawers and bend over urchin. You won't be sitting for a month when I'm finished with you."

She stepped closer to him and the boy sobbed, "Please Grelod! Oh please! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to spill it! I swear!"

The old woman grabbed him forcefully by the shoulder and shoved him down into a patch of mud. She leaned over him, yanking his trousers down and raised the switch over her head. She lashed out once, twice, three times - making the poor child scream in agony as she left bright red welts on his rear. Rona felt a severe burning in her hand, one that traveled up her arm and into her entire being. Her blood was absolutely boiling as she watched this happen right in front of her. The desire to kill was pounding in her head. It felt even more powerful than when a dragon was intent on killing her. It was as though she could hear voices in her mind, steadily chanting and demanding she do it.

"That'll teach you to disobey me," Grelod hissed. And then she raised the switch again and Rona didn't even remember how she got there, but in seconds she had a bundle of Grelod's gray hair in her hand and forcefully yanked her head down to her height allowing her to swiftly bury Mehrunes Razor deep into the old crone's throat.

Rona glared furiously into the old woman's grey eyes as she gasped and choked on her own blood, staring back, mouth agape and completely astonished. Something brought Rona back from her murderous rage however and she released the old woman, forcing her to drop onto the ground dead at her feet.

(The music is _The Time Has Come_ by Valentin Wiest)

She took a sharp breath and her whole body trembled all over. But then the boy looked right at her, pulling his trousers up and breathed, "You did it. You killed Grelod." Rona was horrified with herself. She murdered that woman in front of a _child?_ But then he completely surprised her when he laughed and cried, "Haha yes! Aventus did it! He actually got the Dark Brotherhood to kill Grelod!"

And then the terrified screams of a woman at the doorway were what made Rona realize she had to run. She scrambled back over the low wall and raced for the gates leading out of the city all while she heard the sounds of multiple children cheering over the death of their old headmistress.

Rona burst through the gates and ran as fast as she could. She wasn't even thinking about where she was going then, only that she needed to escape. She ran and ran until she was absolutely out of breath and realized that no one was following her. She stopped and looked around, finding herself close to the local lumber mill, just outside the city.

There didn't appear to be anyone around, no guards patrolling or any citizens out for a late night stroll. She walked hastily just off the road and looked up at the night sky shouting, "OD AH VIING!"

After that she anxiously paced back and forth in a small thicket of trees, tensely chewing on her nails as she did so. She'd just murdered someone... _in front of a child_. And she'd been seen. But it had been dark out and hopefully, the boy in question and the woman who'd screamed hadn't been able to discern her features. She thought of changing her hair color again but they probably hadn't seen the color since she'd concealed it under her hood. But still... she would have to change her clothes. Get all new armor, _again?_ This was getting to be too much.

Why did she do it? Why did she kill that woman? Because she was hurting the boy? No... she put a hand onto the hilt of the dagger which was still warm to the touch. She yanked her hand away and glanced down at the Razor.

It was because of that Daedric artifact. It had possessed her, taken over her mind, her will. Just like when her brother had been possessed by the Ebony Blade long ago... She couldn't even remember climbing over the fence, let alone grabbing the old crone's hair. She remembered stabbing her and how badly she'd wanted to do it, however.

The ground beneath her feet rumbled then and she looked over to see Odahviing landing in the middle of a clearing. She was so absorbed in her own horror that she hadn't even heard him. She quickly ran over to the dragon and he looked down at her, sleepily. He nearly yawned as he said, "[It is late dovahkiin... surely you should be resting at this time? I know I gave you permission to call upon me but-]"

"[Odahviing, I'm really, really sorry to call on you so late. I promise I wouldn't have if it wasn't important]," she spoke quickly, making her anxiety readily apparent, "[Please, I have to get to Windhelm as soon as possible! I need to get as far away from here as I can _right now!_ ]"

Odahviing looked on at her curiously, cocking his head a little. Then he gave a deep rumbling sigh and lowered his head, "[Come along then young one.]"

She climbed onto his head, gripping his horns tightly as he swept off into the night, heading north to Windhelm.

They were both silent for the entire ride over the Rift. Rona was still lost in thought, replaying what happened over and over in her head, trying to figure out at what point she'd forgotten herself. The boy was crying, she'd wanted to comfort him, the old woman came outside and started whipping the child with a riding crop and then... She couldn't remember much after that. A burning urge? A terrible desire?

The roars of a dragon shook her from her reverie then and she looked up to see another dragon flying off in the distance, hovering around the frozen mountains near the border of Morrowind, just outside Windhelm.

"[Hold on young one]," Odahviing warned her as he quickly swooped downward and landed in a clearing just north of Kynesgrove. He paused with her still on his head as he listened to the low roars coming from the dragon on the mountain, then he lifted his head and roared back so loudly it almost burst Rona's eardrums.

"NII LOS ZU'U ODAHVIING! DREM YOL LOK! PAAZ VULON!"

The other dragon roared loudly back in reply, although Rona couldn't understand it at all considering the distance between them. She might have had the ears of an elf, but even the thick rumblings of dovahzul were entirely lost on her when expressed at that distance.

They watched as the dragon landed on a large precipice jutting from the mountainside. He continued to roar something out and then stopped. Ohdahviing spoke to her then, without moving his gaze from the dragon before them, "You must go now young one. I am being summoned."

"Will you be alright?" She whispered.

His jowls curled into a grin and he rumbled a laugh, "I will be fine little dov. But it seems that Alduin is calling for the old ones, he wishes to meet with us..."

"What about?" She asked quickly.

"I do not know. It has been some time since I have convened with the others. The last time we met was to plan our attack upon you..."

She watched as his eye traveled back to look at her for a moment and she whispered, "Oh..."

"You needn't fear that again young one. You already have my allegiance. But I may not be able to come to you for some time if you should call upon me."

"I understand," she said as she quickly slid off his head, keeping herself concealed behind the side of his body facing away from the other dragon seated on the peak.

He continued to stare off at the expecting party and then roared out, "BO NU! WAH GRIND HI TIL DII ZEYMAH!"

The other dragon gave a short reply and then flapped his wings and took off over the mountains. Only then did Odahviing dare turn to look at her, "I will go and listen. I will see what I can learn for you vahdin."

"Thank you Odahviing," she said smiling kindly at him. She pressed a hand to his scaly cheek and said, "Please take care of yourself. If anything should happen to you... I..."

He gave a low rumble, a chuckle she guessed and he said, "You fear for an old dov's laas... his life? You needn't. I assure you young one that I too once rivaled Alduin in power in the days of yore. I can _spaan_... defend myself. It is you that I am concerned for. What will the tiny wingless dov do now that she must use her legs?"

She laughed at him, "Hey! I did just fine traveling all over Skyrim before you came along."

He chuckled again and said, "So the vahdin says, but I have trouble believing this," then he pushed his head against her hand and gave a low murmur, a dragon's purr she assumed, "We will meet again soon dovahkiin. _Su'um ahrk morah_."

"[Breath and focus]," she replied in kind, bidding him farewell. He took flight again, heading for the snowy mountains beyond.

Rona turned around and headed back towards Braidwood Inn. She'd sleep there for the night and then finish her trip to Windhelm and get to work. Hopefully, she could be done in a day and then make the trip back to Riften by carriage, then after that, she and Vex could start training on some more advanced lockpicking for a week or so. She was absolutely determined to get better at it. The sooner she mastered that skill the sooner she could start diving into the rest of the Dwemer ruins across Skyrim.

As she laid down for the night, however, her mind was plagued with everything that had happened that evening. She'd murdered two people all in one night. She stared hard at the blade sitting on her bedside table. It was a cursed thing... but she needed it and it was a little stronger now. She only hoped that the blood of two _mostly_ innocent people would be enough for it. Deep down inside though, she knew it would never be enough. She pushed those thoughts aside and closed her eyes, trying to forget as sleep finally took her.

Delvin and Dirge returned to the Flagon after tossing the ranger out of the Ratway. Dirge went right back to his post, staring at the entryway while Delvin walked back around towards the bar and called to Vex and Vekel, curling his finger towards himself, "You two, follow me."

He led them back towards the Cistern's door, but instead of going in, he took them off towards the right and into a private room.

"Seems we've got ourselves a very ill-tempered problem on our hands now," Delvin said turning back to them both.

Vex said, "Uh no. Jill's the one with the problem. Not us."

"And if he finds her, that becomes trouble for us," Delvin said narrowing his eyes at her.

"You're kidding, right?" Vex said, crossing her arms, "That girl's been nothing but a drag on the Guild."

"Actually, Vex, my dear sweet, cynical, sneak-thief, she has been bringing in quite a few contracts as of late. In fact, I think our luck's really startin' to turn around thanks to her."

Vex just stared at him with half-lidded eyes.

Vekel raised a brow and asked, "You sure about that Delvin? I mean... she's good with numbers sure, bringing in lots of jobs there. Problem is that she hasn't been doing a whole lot of them, what with this whole destiny of hers always getting in the way."

Delvin raised a finger and said, "Ah, but see, that's where we come in. That girl's going to owe us big time for this one."

"How do you mean?" Vex asked.

"Well, we're going to send the ranger and his mutt off on a wild goose chase lookin' for her to start and you Vex, my prettiest plunderer will be taking little miss Jill off on an adventure for some hands-on training in the ruins of Avanchnzel."

Vex scoffed and looked at him incredulously, "I don't fucking think so!"

He hissed at her, "Keep your voice down, will you?"

She whispered harshly, " _Do I look like a damn adventurer to you?_ "

"Hardly, but what's it matter? You'll have the Dragonborn with you. You'll be fine," Delvin assured her.

Vex exhaled, exasperated and rolled her eyes heavily.

Then he said, "See, we have a big job comin' up that only she can handle."

"And what would that be?" Vex asked skeptically.

"The Goldenglow job."

Vex's face fell and Vekel just gaped at Delvin muttering, "No way. You're going to send the worst thief on all of Nirn to go take care of that job? For _Maven?_ Our biggest client!?"

Delvin shrugged, "Brynjolf's idea. She's the only one that can fit into the sewer that leads out that way."

Vex scoffed, "Of course."

"Not only that," Delvin said, "But we have another client that's going to be payin' us a little visit soon that we're going to need her for," Delvin got a wry smile on his face, eyeing Vex when he said, "Actually, going to need all you ladies for this one."

Vex cringed at him and grumbled, "Keep looking at me that way lech and I'll carve your eyes out."

Delvin just chuckled and Vekel asked, "Who's the potential client?"

Delvin looked at him, his grin widening, "Lucias Medici."

"No way..." Vekel breathed.

Vex started, "Isn't he-?"

"Proprietor of the Arena in the Imperial City and one of the wealthiest men alive? Yeah, that's exactly who that is."

"What's he want with us?" Vex asked.

"Well, he met Maven at a little party a few months back, she mentioned her connection with the Guild and he showed interest. We'd be moving a lot of product for him on the regular. But we're going to have to put on a little show first," he explained, "Maven will be hosting a gamblin' party at her manor, just outside Riften, and that's where you lovely vixens come in. You'll be countin' cards and cleanin' out a few of the guests."

"Is that really a good idea?" Vex asked, raising her brow at him.

"It's what they'll want. A bit of a test, if you will, to see our skill. So you'll need to be deft with your sleight of hand. Should probably start practicin'. Some of you will be on tables, a few of you will be dressed up, disguised and minglin' with the others like wealthy partygoers. In fact, Jill will be the star of this show," he grinned.

"She can count cards, sure," Vex said, "But that girl couldn't shuffle a deck of cards if she tried let alone do sleight of hand."

"She won't be on a table," Delvin said, "She'll be goin' as Brynjolf's date. See Lucias is very interested in our little forger. He has some paperwork that needs a bit of... _rearranging_. He only wants the best though, so she'll have to prove herself."

"So when is this party?" Vex asked.

"Not sure yet. Everything's still in the works right now... oh and this is all hush-hush by the way. Don't go off flappin' your gums to the others."

Both Vex and Vekel just stared at him with half-lidded eyes. Delvin laughed, "Alright, fine, Vex, I know you won't, but you Vekel," he pointed a finger at the man.

Vekel threw his arms up, "What? You know me! I wouldn't breathe a word."

"I know you been talkin' to Tonilia."

Vekel frowned at him.

"Don't care that she's your lady, Vekel. Keep your mouth shut. You're damn lucky she hasn't gone off spoutin' 'bout the fact that the Dragonborn's hidin' out in here. But I wouldn't put it past her to sell the girl out for a swift septim first chance she gets and that lad was tossin' a mighty fine septim around."

Vekel sighed, "Yeah, yeah. I hear yah..."

"Need you to do somethin' for me Vekel."

"And what's that?"

"Make sure to keep Bishop out of the Flagon. Have Dirge rough him up a little, if you have to, but whatever you do, don't let him kill the man."

Vekel laughed, "I'm not stupid, Delvin. I know better than to let anyone run any knives through the _Dragonborn's_ man. Last thing we need is for this place to burn down."

Delvin nodded in agreement and then looked sharply at both of them, "You know, I don't care what either of you think about her. Jill's one of our own, shoddy a thief as she is... she's the only one that can stop those blasted fire-breathing lizards from takin' over the whole damn place... We protect our own," he added firmly.

Vex smirked at him, "Wow Delvin if I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually cared about her or something."

"Look, dragons are bad for business. That's all it's ever been about," he insisted.

Vex turned away laughing through a yawn, " _Riigghht_. Well, I'm gonna hit the hay."

"Hey, hey," Delvin called out stopping her.

"Yeah, that's what I just said," she yawned again turning back to him.

"I'm settin' you on the ranger," Delvin said.

She scowled at him, "What?"

"Tomorrow, you find that fuckhead and you keep tabs on 'im. I'll be keepin' a lookout for Jill in the next day or so myself, make sure she doesn't run right into the man or his mutt sniffs her out."

"Whatever..." Vex said as she started walking away again and went through the door to the Cistern.

Vekel took a breath and crossed his arms, throwing Delvin a curious look.

"What?"

"I think she's right. You care about her."

"Pft..." Delvin scoffed turning his head away.

Vekel chuckled, "It's why you've been keeping Brynjolf and Mercer in the dark about her, isn't it?"

"You wanna know the truth about it?"

Vekel looked at him skeptically but waited for his reply.

"I don't trust Mercer."

Vekel's face fell at that remark and Delvin added, "Only reason I keep Brynjolf out of the loop is 'cause he's Mercer's, right-hand man. But if Mercer knew... if he ever finds out about her..."

Vekel furrowed his brows and whispered, "You don't honestly think Mercer would hurt the girl, do you?"

Delvin looked him right in the eyes and said, "I haven't forgotten what happened nine years ago. I think Mercer showed his true colors back then. Haven't trusted the man since."

Delvin didn't say another word as he walked away, rounding into the Cistern to go find a bed to pass out on. He would never forget the day Mercer Frey allowed four young thieves to be executed in front of them all.

Rona sprint down the path, grateful that the khajiit caravans and several carriages had already crushed the snow down on the road making her run to Windhelm a lot easier. She'd overslept and it was already midday and Delvin wasn't kidding either when he'd said the contracts had been due the day before. She read them over the minute she woke up and practically fell all over herself trying to get dressed and moving.

She slowed her pace and caught her breath as she reached the steps of Windhelm. She looked on at the run-down, dreary hold before her. She'd never really cared for the place considering nearly all of its Nord citizens were deeply racist and bitter people, and the Dunmer and Argonians wallowed in their own miseries, unwilling to better their own predicaments.

Back then, she naively believed that she could convince Ulfric Stormcloak to start treating the Dunmer and the Argonians as true citizens, but that idea had been dashed the moment she met him. She just hoped he was off somewhere else and not in the city right at that moment because she had no desire to bump into him any time soon.

Rona hurried along through the gates and into the dilapidated city. She made her first stop at a little shop in the Grey-Quarter called Sadri's Used Wares. The minute she walked in she was greeted kindly at first by the Dunmer proprietor, Revyn Sadri, "Welcome to Sadri's Used Wares!" the moment he recognized her though he scowled right at her. She half-expected the man to snap at her, right then and there, until she noticed they weren't alone.

There was a very tall Altmer looking over some old paintbrushes that had been laid out for him. At least Rona, thought he was an Altmer. On second glance, however, she wasn't so sure. She did notice that he was incredibly handsome for an elf. His facial features, like her own, were more man than mer. He had long soft brown hair that had been tied neatly back at the lower ends of the strands and cascaded just between his shoulder blades. His skin was more of a fair peach, with only a light tinge of gold to it. He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones and she could see that his eyes were slightly slanted, all indicators of his elvishness.

He was wearing dark brown trousers and a dark blue tunic with long sleeves, although he had on a thin black cloak, which surprised Rona, as she assumed he'd be the type to easily suffer from the cold. She started wondering if maybe he was half-Nord like her, and perhaps his Nordic side was better suited to the cold than hers had ever been.

At that moment he turned to look at her and his striking dark blue eyes cut into hers. She felt herself blushing suddenly, realizing that she'd been awkwardly staring at this man for who knows how long. But he just gave her a soft smile and her attention was drawn away when Revyn cleared his throat and asked her politely, "Looking for anything, in particular, today miss?"

Her head snapped back to him and she stumbled saying, "Ah-yes! Um..." she wracked her brain for a minute and watched as Revyn's mouth twitched a little in annoyance. "I'm interested in your used spellbooks," she finally said, very quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.

"Give me just a moment," Revyn replied through grit teeth as he turned away to collect the books.

Rona tried so hard not to look back at the Altmer standing nearby, but couldn't seem to help herself, as she chanced another glance at him. She'd never seen anyone quite like him before.

Then he spoke suddenly, his voice deep and velvety, "I've been meaning to buy some more brushes. I think this will do well for texturing," he held up one of the paint brushes with the bristles fanned outward, "What do you think?"

Rona blushed red and muttered, "Erm... I wouldn't know. I've never painted before."

He smiled again, "My mistake. You just seemed like the artistic type. I suppose you prefer magic then?"

"Hm?" She looked at him questioningly and then Revyn returned with a stack of heavy spellbooks and dumped them onto the counter in front of her.

"Your spellbooks, _ma'am_ ," Revyn grumbled, more annoyed than ever.

She blinked at the pile of books and said, "Oh right... well, I... I'm not very good with magic, but I've been meaning to practice more."

"It's the same with painting," the Altmer said, "It just takes practice. It also requires a great deal of patience and concentration but I find it to be very relaxing," he picked out three of the eight brushes he was looking over and said, "I'd like to purchase these ones. They're exactly what I need for my next piece." Then he glanced at Rona again, studying her for a moment and he picked one more brush out, a small thin one and said, "Oh and this one. For the finer details."

Revyn put the Altmer's brushes into a bag and they exchanged coin. The Altmer gave her one more brief smile before stepping back out into the cold, leaving her and Revyn all alone.

He looked at her, hands gripping the edge of the countertop tightly, "The _spellbooks_ Jillian!? You couldn't have asked for something a little lighter, maybe take a look at the rings on display!?"

"I'm sorry!" She snapped back, "I just... I didn't expect anyone else to be here - it threw me off!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "You didn't expect anyone else to be here?"

She waved a hand in front of her face, "No - I mean! Ugh, I'm sorry that came out wrong."

"You know, my business is doing just fine. I was very busy just a few hours ago!" He said as he went around the counter and up to the front doors to lock them.

" _Suuure_ ," she mumbled under her breath, "that's why you have the Guild cook your books, 'cause business is just booming."

"What was that?"

"I asked where the logbook is," she said more loudly and succinctly.

"Follow me," he said, leading her up the stairs and chiding her the entire way, "Late again. Don't tell me you got caught in the middle of another battlefield on your way here."

"That actually happened!" She scoffed, exasperated.

"So what was it this time? Another dragon perhaps? Or did you get distracted chasing after somebody's old family heirloom in some cave?"

She rolled her eyes, it was like talking to Delvin all over again. None of them ever gave her a break. Granted she did have a habit of getting herself into more trouble than she had to. She couldn't do much about the dragons, which had the power to sense her and find her. When they did find her she'd have to kill them, lest they fly off and alert their Master that she was in fact, still alive and she truly hoped that Alduin thought she was as dead as the rest of Skyrim did.

She did, however, have the choice to not take on every fetch quest that just so happened to fall into her lap that day. But she just couldn't help herself sometimes. Any chance she got to go exploring and for just a minute forget that she had this horrible destiny bearing down on her shoulders was reason enough to shirk her Thieves Guild responsibilities. It had even proved worthwhile most of the time when she'd find a word wall on her little adventures.

When Rona didn't reply to Revyn he just stopped in front of his desk and pointed to the two enormous logbooks sitting there, "Luckily I managed to get an extension from the Jarl's Steward on turning these in this month. So be a dear, do your best to make all the marked lines vanish for me, will you?"

She plopped down into the chair at the desk and made a face at all the red lines, flipping a few pages back and forth, looking the whole thing over and groaned, "This is going to take me _hours_ Revyn!"

"I told you business has been good. _Haaave_ _fuuun_ ," he drawled mockingly. Then he went back downstairs, returning to his post and reopening his shop. Rona banged her head into the logbook and groaned loudly. She never in her life thought she'd get stuck doing something as dull as deskwork like she was some sort of steward. Still, it beat _actually_ stealing things from people, even if she was technically lying on formal documents and stealing from the city in a way.

She didn't mind it so much when in Windhelm. Any reason to withhold a portion of the taxes Ulfric Stormcloak collected to fund his war was a good enough reason for her to sit there for the next four or five hours crunching numbers and making certain business transactions vanish entirely, boring as it was.

And as insufferable as Revyn could be sometimes, he was a good man. He cared deeply for the Dunmer community and always went out of his way to help his fellow man in need. Most of his money went towards keeping their small slice of Windhelm up and running and Rona appreciated that about him.

So she got to work, spending most of her day shifting his finances around with her two unique spells. Around four in the afternoon Revyn was kind enough to bring her a small plate of cheeses and crackers. She thanked him and showed him her progress.

He looked over the books, hand to his hip, "That's amazing how you do that. Looks just like my handwriting. How _do_ you do it?"

She shrugged and lied, "Practice."

He shook his head, "Well, keep up the good work. You're really helping me out of a bind here."

"Don't I always?" She laughed remembering the last four times she'd been there since joining the Guild.

He smirked at her, pinched her on the cheek and left her to finish her work. When she was done with everything and assured him that everything had been checked over at least three times for errors, he let her leave around six in the evening. She hurried along to finish her second job that evening, which would be easy enough. But as she hunted around for the woman she needed to speak to she decided to make a quick stop at Candlehearth Hall first, purchasing a hot bowl of horker stew, a cut of bread and a bottle of Honningbrew Mead.

She carried the food and drink with her outside and spotted the beggar she'd been looking for warming her hands by a fire near the Palace. Rona hurried on over to the woman and Silda's dirtied face brightened at the sight of her, "Jill! So good to see you again."

Rona smiled at her, "Hi Silda, brought you some things."

"Oh you're just too sweet," Silda said as Rona passed off the food and drink. They both sat down at the edge of the steps and Silda took a sip of the stew and waved a hand to her mouth crying, "Hot! Hot!"

Rona laughed, "Be careful! You'll burn the roof of your mouth."

"Oh it's so good though," she said taking another tender sip, "Elda's a real bitch, but she can make a mean stew."

"Tell me about it," Rona said scrunching her nose, "Last time I went in, she saw my ears and I'm pretty sure she spit in my sandwich."

"Oh that's terrible," Silda said as she loudly slurped up the stew, "Ruining a perfectly good sandwich like that."

They both giggled with each other, chatting away as Rona quietly gave her the latest Guild gossip.

"I'm pretty sure Vex and Brynjolf have a thing going between them," Rona said, smirking.

Silda just gaped at her, "Those two!? Oh but Vex is such a shrew."

"She can be, but I'm pretty sure I caught them _kiiissing_ once," she giggled.

"What about Vekel and Tonilia? Those two finally getting hitched?"

"Pft, no," Rona scoffed, "Vekel asks her every day to marry him and every day she tells him to and I quote, 'fuck off with that home-maker nonsense."

Silda just shook her head as she wiped up the last of her stew with the bread, "Those girls... All of them are just a bunch of cranky old wenches. You though Jill, you're the sweetest. Don't ever change honey."

Rona smiled at her, her face falling a bit as she remembered Bishop telling her that more than once on their journey together. _Don't ever change, Ladyship._ If he could see her now, a thief and a murderer how disappointed would he be, she wondered.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"Hm?" Rona snapped back from her thoughts, "Oh nothing. Just feeling a little tired."

"I'm not surprised after spending all day staring at a logbook. I don't know how you do it."

Rona furrowed her brows at her and said, "It could be worse."

"Hmph," Silda pouted a bit, nudging her in the shoulder, "Don't you pity me, girl. I get along just fine. I prefer it, you know, living this way. I have more freedom than any of these fools stuck in their perpetual routines, their entire lives dictated by time and money."

Rona smiled at her and then took her pack off and started rummaging around in one of the pockets. She pulled out a letter and a thick coin purse, "Delvin gave you a bonus for all the information you provided last month, it really helped a lot."

"Glad to be of service," Silda said taking the letter and the gold. She hid them both away under the rags on her person and then clapped a hand to Rona's shoulder. "You'd best hurry along to your last contract this evening my dear."

"Good idea," Rona said as she stood up. The sun had already set for the evening which was for the best. Her next target required stealth and she couldn't afford any mistakes. She bid farewell to Silda and headed towards the southeast exit, leading to the docks. The pier was entirely vacant at that time of night. Rona concealed herself with her invisibility spell and hurried down the stairs. She crouched by the East Empire Trading Company doors and quietly groaned to herself as she pulled one of many lockpicks from her pouch. She set to work on picking the lock, breaking more than one as she went along. She absolutely detested lockpicking and could not seem to get the hang of it no matter how many times Vex showed her.

The woman had even broken open twenty or more locks just to show her how the mechanisms worked and how to pick them properly. The problem, however, was that it was more about 'feeling' the kind of mechanism that was in the lock and Rona just didn't get it. She started praying to Akatosh for a lockpicking shout that would make her life so much easier.

Finally, after a dozen broken lockpicks and several times when she heard a slight sound and triple checked her invisibility was still holding, the lock clicked and she was able to quietly slip into the building. She glanced around and when she was sure she was alone she stood up and started looking for the book she needed to make changes too. In the back of the room, she found exactly what she was looking for. The East Empire's shipping schedule. She got to work adding in the names of two ships that would be making their voyage through Windhelm later that month, essentially allowing the Guild to sneak in two illegal shipments on two illegal vessels so they could import and export some very illegal goods.

Satisfied with her work and ready to turn in at Candlehearth Hall for the night she turned around and made to leave when she suddenly heard the door open. Her heart pound in her chest and she immediately concealed herself and ducked back behind some barrels.

"Could have sworn I locked that door," she heard a woman mumble.

"It's fine," a man said, "I don't see anything missing, do you?"

"No," she said, "But better to be safe than sorry."

Rona heard their footsteps as an Imperial Legion officer and an Imperial man stepped into view. The woman looked around and hummed a bit, "Hmm, well everything seems to be in order."

The man went over and sat down at the desk then and said, "I'll talk to the palace steward about having the lock checked."

The woman scoffed at him, "Oh don't bother Orthus. Do you honestly think Ulfric Stormcloak or any of his cronies will bother helping us _Imperials_ with that, let alone the East Empire Company - a company charted by the Emperor himself?"

"Well I'll mention it anyways," he sighed, "I have to speak to the steward about that boy. Every day I walk by I can hear him chanting the same thing over and over."

"Oh, you mean the Aretino boy? Yes, I've heard about him. Is it true? He's really trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?"

Rona's blood went cold.

"It is and it's... _creepy_. Every day I walk by his house and hear him whispering that same thing through the window. Something about the Night Mother. It's absolutely terrifying. I'm surprised the steward hasn't done anything about it yet."

"Well considering how thin Ulfric's been spreading his resources these days, it's no wonder a little boy has been allowed to live unsupervised in his home summoning a group of assassins and hardly anyone bats an eye."

Orthus tore a sheet of parchment from a book and started writing something, "Alright, let's see, have the lock checked, sign off on the coming shipments," he started scribbling off a checklist. Rona kept checking her invisibility at that moment and cursed herself for not brewing any invisibility potions. She just hoped that if it wore off her hiding spot was concealing her well enough.

Finally, Orthus said, "What was the boy's name again? I'll ask the steward about him too while I'm there."

"Aretino," the woman said, "Aventus Aretino if I remember right."

Rona tensed up again. Aventus... that was the name the little boy at the orphanage gave right after she murdered Grelod. _Aventus did it!_ She swallowed hard. Some child was calling on the Dark Brotherhood in an attempt to have the old headmistress of the orphanage murdered. He was willing to put himself at risk and speak with an assassin just to have the woman killed. But Rona had already killed her...

Maybe she could stop him from speaking to them. If she got to him first, told him it was over and done with then he'd stop trying to summon them. In a way, she could help him, she could save him from making that mistake and maybe it would make up, even a little for her transgression. At least that's what she tried to tell herself.

Suddenly the two Imperials in the room started walking away, both prattling to each other about more business-related details. The minute Rona heard them leave and the door click she let out a very long breath, not realizing she'd been holding it for so long.

She gave it a few minutes and waited a bit before concealing herself once more and slipping back outside into the night. The minute she was back in the city she started to wander the streets, listening closely for the sound of someone speaking or chanting.

Finally, after winding around the inn twice over and heading back towards the Grey-Quarter she heard something which sent a shiver up her spine.

(The song is _Occult Negotiations_ by Valentin Wiest)

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

She darted towards that voice and stopped, looking up at a partially open window as the boy's voice carried on, repeating the same line over and over again. She stood in front of the door, slipping a lockpick out. She really focused on getting a sense of the lock that time, really feeling how it moved and clicked with each twist and pull of the pick. She surprised even herself when it clicked after only a minute.

Rona went inside and slowly tread up the stairs leading into a dreary room. It was mostly empty save for an old hearth, a large bed pushed against the wall, a table, and a single chair. There were food scraps on the table and floor and the entire place was grungy and dirty from a lack of cleaning.

Rona's heart sank when she heard the boy practically shouting, "Grelod! You old crone! You'll get what you deserve. The Dark Brotherhood will see to that..."

She rounded the corner and was horrified to find a little Nord boy stooped over a gruesome effigy surrounded with candles. It consisted of an entire human skeleton, a heart and even some kind of organ or flesh. She watched in shock as this child rubbed a dagger with a plant of Nightshade and repeatedly stabbed at the effigy while he chanted the same line.

It was so terrifying because it was so precise. Rona had done exactly as her father instructed her half a year before when she'd first discovered she was the Dark Brotherhood's coveted Listener. She read every book she could get her hands on about them. One book, in particular, had disturbed her more than the rest and that was the one titled, _A Kiss, Sweet Mother_. This was because it had outlined exactly how to summon the Dark Brotherhood in order to make a contract with them.

And this little boy had done just that. She eyed the book in question lying on the floor, right next to the effigy. She hadn't realized that she'd moved so close to the child, staring over him until he glanced back and jumped backward, scrambling away from her on the floor.

She made to speak when his look of alarm changed immediately to one of delight and he shouted, "I knew you'd come!"

Rona threw a finger to her mouth and shushed him. Then she looked over at the open window and yanked it shut. The boy stared at her and said, "Oh... right, sorry. I guess I shouldn't have left it open."

"You need to stop this," she said to him. It was the first thing that came to mind. Like scolding her own little brother, "Please, _please_ don't do this."

"But you're already here," he replied, cocking his head a bit and still smiling, "Does that mean you'll accept my contract!?"

"What?"

"Don't worry, I can pay you! I promise. I know I look like I'm just a kid but... well my mother she," he faltered looking forlorn, "she left me a few family heirlooms. You can have them, please, if you'll just accept my contract."

Rona swallowed hard. He looked so desperate and she said quickly, "No. It's fine. Grelod's dead. I killed her."

He stared at her wide-eyed and stunned then he said, "I can't believe it. I mean, I knew the Dark Brotherhood was good, but not _that_ good! That means I can finally go back and see all my friends again!"

"Yeah," Rona breathed, knitting her brows together, "You should go back."

"This is the greatest news I've ever gotten," he was absolutely giddy, "I'll go back soon enough, but you know... I think I'll give them some time to clean up the mess." He started laughing almost wickedly so and she slowly backed away. It was all too much for her. It was too disturbing.

She just kept nodding saying, "Your friends miss you. Go back soon okay?"

She listened to his elated laughter as he shouted, "Someday when I grow up I'm going to be an assassin and help lots of children too!"

This had to be a nightmare. She turned on her toe then and swiftly ran down the stairs only to slam right into something blocking her path. That something turned out to be a someone.

Rona looked up into the partially concealed face of that someone. They were very tall, dressed head to toe in black and red leather armor and stared down hard at her with cold blue eyes. She wanted to scream but her voice caught in her throat as her eyes widened, nearly bulging from her head.

And when that person grabbed her sharply by the arm, holding tightly to her, she couldn't help it then. She shouted, "FEIM ZII GRON!" Her body went translucent and the assassin's grip on her released as he could not hold on. She stepped right through him, shoving the door in front of her open and ran as fast as her legs would carry her through the streets of Windhelm and out the city gates. They absolutely could not find her now. She wouldn't let them. She had to escape.

Rona started to wonder why she was always running. It was near constant the way she ran from those who sought to kill her, the dragons, the Thalmor, and the Dark Brotherhood, but also from those who would help her, her friends and family... but most of all, she ran and ran away from the one she loved. The one she needed now more than ever. She whispered a cry for him, pleading for his help out of her own childish fears as she swept down the snowy path through the chill night, "Please save me, Bishop."


	5. Chapter 5 Ancient Knowledge

**Chapter 5**

 **Ancient Knowledge**

(The Background Music is _Amon Hen, Twilight and Shadow, Minis Tirith, Ash and Smoke_ by Howard Shore)

The roar of a dragon echoed along the frozen and desolate spaces between the peaks of the Velothi Mountain Range. Another called out soon after and then another and another. Their guttural bellows clapped through the skies like a powerful thunderstorm, shocking the landscape repeatedly with endless bolts of lightning. Hundreds of dragons flew together, soaring over and around the snowy peaks, roaring their greetings and even their mockeries to one another as friends and foes alike joined together.

If there had been any mortal below, they surely would have died from the sight of them. The sheer number of dragons in the sky at that moment was enough to make one's blood run cold and their heart stop.

Odahviing joined them, picking up his pace to head to the front of the formation. The younger dov made way for the elders, knowing better than to question the authority of the wisest of them. He flew around the younglings, listening as they greeted him with reverence.

"[Peace, fire, sky, Lord Ohdaviing.]"

"[A good night my lord.]"

"[Fair skies, Lord Odahviing.]"

Odahviing was surprised by the number of young ones among them, some mere hatchlings, their wings not even fully grown. It seemed that Alduin had been very busy and putting the souls of Skyrim's dead Nords to use. Dragons knew not the ways of mating. They were immortal, sexless creatures, born from the fires of their father Bormahu and given the lands of Skyrim to rule over as their own.

But as humankind learned the way of shouting and fought against their dragon overlords, killing hundreds of the elders, their numbers began to dwindle and their power and presence weakened greatly.

It was Alduin who took it upon himself to seek out a method to increase their numbers. He meddled in the world of mortal magic, learning from the dragon priests of yore and they gifted him with two terrifying and unnatural shouts that would allow him to replace those they'd lost to the Dragonborn over several millennia.

With the souls he'd consumed from Sovngarde he would find a solid stone and carve at it with his claws and scales, shaping it smooth and round. Then with the power of his thu'um, he would shout at this newly created _'egg'_ completely changing its composition so that it acted as a soul stone. It was then that he would use another shout to deposit the souls of the dead into the soul stone and leave it to incubate. In a short month, the stone would crack, breaking open and unleashing an almost fully formed dragon into the world.

The elders called them the young ones or younglings and many of the old ones found them to be brash and unpredictable creatures, perhaps taking the worst traits from their father, Alduin, and amplifying them. They were highly territorial, aggressive and foolhardy. They hardly took to or understood the respectful formalities of the elder dov.

But it seemed that Alduin had been training them closely and teaching them the old ways as Odahviing was continually greeted with proper respect by each of them. He made his way to the forefront and found his place between two of his own elders, Rektuhah, an old Elder Dragon with fading orange scales and horns and Krozeim a Legendary Dragon with purplish smooth scales and two thick curling horns.

"[Brothers]," Odahviing rumbled to them, making his presence known.

They each regarded him and growled their own greetings and Rektuhah, the eldest spoke first, "[Tell me Odahviing... what are your thoughts on all these younglings?]"

Odahviing took care not to speak too freely in the presence of so many strange dovah, he kept his words vague enough to be understood by the elders before him, "[I suspect Lord Alduin has many plans for them. It seems he has rebuilt our numbers by a thousandfold. I imagine Skyrim will be... very crowded, very soon.]"

Krozeim grunted speaking much more freely with his distaste of the situation, "[There are far too many. The younglings are impetuous. They will set the lands ablaze fighting for territory until there is nothing left to claim. Lord Alduin is foolish to think-]"

Odahviing snapped warningly at Krozeim's neck, the slits of his pupils drawing nearly to a close as he hissed, "[Watch your words Krozeim. It is unwise to make such accusations in our current company...]"

Krozeim looked around, remembering where he was in that moment as a few of the younglings scanned him over with their budding black eyes. ["Yeeesss... indeed. I do not wish to seem insubordinate. Of course Lord Alduin, eldest and wisest among us... he knows how best to retake Skyrim.]"

Odahviing was finding the situation very worrisome. They were in the presence of nearly all of the elders of course, but there were also so many new younglings and although they were much smaller than the rest of them, they also outnumbered them by several hundred at least. His concern was only magnified by the fact that this was not the first time Krozeim and a few of the others let their rambling tongues get the best of them like that.

Odahviing and many of the elders had been speaking at length in regards to Alduin's Lordship. When he was first felled at the Throat of the World nearly two thousand years ago, they'd taken it as a sign of the end of his reign over them, he had failed and was no longer the most powerful dov. And even when he returned and brought so many of them back from the dead they doubted him. But it was the events at Solitude which cemented many of their thoughts on the matter. Alduin, who had cowered behind the wings of his brothers and who selfishly consumed the souls of the dead in Sovngarde, unwilling to share in the strength and power it provided are what gave them enough cause to no longer hold him in reverence.

But they were still too afraid to act, to fight the cruelest and oldest among them because it had been ingrained into them for so long that he was Bormahu's chosen son. And now, with so many new dragons brought to life by Lord Alduin himself, they might never snuff out his supremacy.

All they could do was go along with his plans, obey his command and hope that they survived long enough to return to the solitude of their mountains and territories. Very few of them had any desire to be worshipped by mankind anymore. But Alduin was determined to bring back the old ways.

They flew high up then and over the mountain peaks, coming across an open expanse in the center of the mountains. A snow-filled crater of sorts. Odahviing felt his pulse quicken at the sight before him. There were at least a thousand or more of the younglings, all scattered around and watching and whispering as the rest of the elders appeared over the summit. He'd never seen dragons quite like these ones though.

They were such strange looking creatures with bright orange and blue bodies and flattened heads that fanned out at the neck and all along their backs and tails. They were very small in comparison to any of them and yet there were so many, mostly clustered together in groups of ten and twenty.

He also noticed some new massive Serpentine Wyrms, clutching at the edges of the crater, cracking the sides under their massive weights. Most notable, though, were the fifty new Frost Dragons which stood at the highest peaks of the crater, acting as sentinels. These were all unfamiliar and strange dragons to him. They were younglings, Alduin's children, all newly hatched.

Odahviing could sense the same discomfort he felt coming from his two peers and uttered low, "[Stay vigilant...]"

They both nodded their heads and met with the other elders near the front of the crater, at the head of the massive collection of younglings.

As they landed Odahviing spotted Nosvaat, Alduin's closest General and one of the other elders, perched upon an ancient and enormous word wall sitting at the edge of the crater just ahead of them. He was the only dragon Alduin put his trust in and only because he had proven his loyalty time and time again. Drogaavlok had been the other, but the Dragonborn claimed his life and soul nearly six months ago when they attempted to kill her in Cyrodiil.

Finally, as the gathering of dragons settled in with their respective clutches, Nosvaat seemed satisfied and threw his head back, calling for their Lord, "AL DU IN! AL DU IN!"

In no time at all the great Black Beast of Oblivion flew in over them all, forcing the ground to rumble beneath their claws as he soared overhead, a show of his power no doubt. He landed harshly onto the topmost center of the word wall and scanned his beady red eyes out at the accumulation of dragons in his presence. After a great deal of rest and the consuming of many souls in Sovngarde Alduin was able to restore the eye which had been taken from him by one of Ysgramor's Companions nearly a year ago.

It had been some time since Odahviing had seen him as well, noting how much larger, younger and powerful he appeared. All his time spent in Sovngarde had strengthened him beyond belief. If the elders worried about standing up to him before, they were probably petrified of the idea now.

Alduin seemed pleased to see them all, as his jowls curled up into a dragon's grin and he spoke in his low booming voice, "[Welcome brothers. I am sure you wonder why I have called you here and I will explain soon enough. But first... as you can see I have spent the last year claiming the souls of Sovngarde and increasing our numbers to formidable strength. The mortals will have much to fear as we reclaim our rule over Skyrim.]"

The elders all looked on at the younglings, who were a mixture of normal enough looking dragons and the smaller, strange flat-headed ones.

"[You wonder, no doubt, about the appearance of some of my children. Their flattened bodies give them incomparable speed and their size provides them with a stealth that no other dragon has. I call them the Revered, for they revere me as their Lord and Father... _as they should_.]"

Odahviing felt a profound tension building among all the elders. One that he was sure even Alduin could sense but the black dragon made no mention of it.

"[I know you are concerned as to how the lands of Skyrim will accommodate so many new dragons, rest assured, the Revered are naturally drawn together, to live in colonies. What they lack in size they make up in sheer numbers.]"

Krozeim couldn't seem to hold his tongue as he spoke up, "[My lord... forgive my impertinence, but even if these younglings are capable of living together as you say, there is hardly enough territory for the elders let alone all these other... _new_ ones.]"

The other elders rumbled in agreement and looked on expectantly at Alduin. His jowls curved up into a smirk and he said, "[I am glad you have asked me this Krozeim... for I have already devised a solution. You see, it is not just Skyrim which we will dominate, but _all_ of Tamriel.]"

A low murmur broke out from the elders and Alduin gave a rumbling, harsh growl of warning which silenced them immediately. "[Naturally you are wondering how we shall take all of Tamriel... I am pleased to tell you that I have reached the pinnacle of strength in all my time in Sovngarde. It no longer serves me to consume the souls of the dead and so I have decided to share my generosity and open the way to the land of the dead for my most _loyal children_. You will be free to feast upon the souls of Skyrim's dead and grow stronger.]"

Odahviing felt the elation and thrill growing among the elders, but it mostly came from the younglings all around as many flapped their wings and roared their praises to their master. It was not lost on him, however, that Alduin was sure to only say _children_ , he made no mention of his brothers...

"[Lord Alduin the benevolent!"]

"[Bormahu's graces upon thee Lord Alduin!]"

"[Praise his lordship!]"

Alduin was very pleased with the younglings worship of him. Odahviing had a feeling they'd been created not just for his army, but as a reflection of himself. Alduin had always been deeply egotistical. It was why he established his rule over mortalkind ages ago. He needed to be revered. He lived for it.

Alduin spoke again, forcing the cries of the excited dragons all around to quiet, "[However, there will not be enough souls for all of you. That is why we must stoke the fires of this mortal war. We must set their minds aflame with the desire for vengeance. And so I have purposely formed a shout for this.]"

Alduin swooped upward and then slammed down hard onto the snow-strewn ground and faced the word wall. He thrust his neck out and bellowed a roaring blood-red thu'um against it. When it stopped they saw the words etched in stone.

DRUN KEIN ZEYMAH it said. _Make War Brother_.

He turned back to face them all and spoke loudly, "[Take this shout and with it set the mortals to war with one another. They shall fight with no fear for their lives, they will kill each other without hesitation and as they do the lands of Sovngarde will fill with the souls of the dead... enough for you _all_ to consume.]"

Again the dragons cheered for him and he raised his shoulders and head, looking proud and formidable. It was all Odahviing could do to keep himself from rolling his eyes. But once more their attentions were drawn to their master as he spoke again, only this time he spoke low and foreboding, "[Now we must speak of the matter of the Dragonborn.]"

Confused growling murmurs could be heard all throughout the crater then. Krozeim spoke up again, "[The mortals speak of her death, my lord. What more is there to discuss?]"

Alduin looked angry as he snapped, "[That is a _lie_... one that the Maiden of Dragon Flame has spread herself. I know for a fact that she lives. You see... she has been searching for the only thing that was able to stop me - the thing which only prolonged the inevitable]," he clarified, refusing to let any of them think he could be so easily defeated, "[She searches for the Elder Scroll.]"

The low murmurs of the elders and younglings spread throughout again and Alduin raised his voice once more, his anger becoming readily apparent, "[That is not all. One of you, one of my own _brothers_ ],' he practically spat the word, "[has _betrayed_ me.]"

Silence. None of them dared to speak, although Odahviing could sense that their minds were working overtime thinking hard on this fact, all of them trying to discern who the traitor among them was. Without moving, he let his eyes travel up and around on the sides of his head as his pulse quickened and he searched for an opening, an escape. He could literally feel Alduin's malice pierce him as the Beast of Oblivion looked right at him and spoke slowly, "[I know what you have been up to Odahviing.]"

All eyes were on him now and his adrenaline was pumping fiercely.

"[I know what _all_ of you have been up to!]" Alduin hissed, throwing his gnashing jaws out at the elders who each stepped back fearfully."[Do not think I have not heard! that I have not _seen!_ I am our father's firstborn! I am Bormahu's chosen! My omniscience is ever present. I know all of you who would dare question my lordship... my birthright... But _you_ Odahviing, stoking the fires of doubt in your brothers and consorting with the Dragonborn? _You disgust me_.]" His words dripped with revulsion and hatred and his jowls curled up into a growl.

"[Odahviing...]" Rektuhah uttered slowly and fearfully.

"[Yeeesss]," Alduin hissed low, "[You worry for your territories, but that is of no concern, for there will be plenty of room for my younglings in Skyrim]," Alduin said slowly, "[Because there shall be a _cleansing_.]"

(The Music is _Run Like Hell_ by Iconic Audio)

The fear coming from the elders and the murderous intent coming from all around them was growing. Odahviing's eyes darted around, watching as the Frost Dragons up on the crater walls started shouting along the edges, building walls of ice. They were going to trap them inside the crater. The smaller Revered Dragons clustered together and slowly closed in on the larger elders, hissing and biting at their wings and claws. The elders responded in kind, as they slowly backed away, each slowly realizing what was happening.

Alduin spoke again, his gaze never once leaving Odahviing, "[I shall cleanse this world of the ways of the old in fire and born from the ashes I shall reign in the new]," he flapped his wings, drawing himself up into the air as he looked down at them all hatefully, "[I shall champion a new era. One where the dragons rule all of Nirn and where _no one. Ever. Dares. Defy me._ ]" Then he threw his head up and roared, "[KILL THE TRAITORS! KILL THEM ALL!]"

In an instant, the smaller dragons were all on the elders and war broke out. Fire and ice broke the air as they fought furiously, with many taking to the skies, trying to escape only to be latched onto and torn at by the smaller dovah. Odahviing had not moved, he couldn't, he was surrounded by at least twenty Revered Dragons, all closing in on him. Alduin slammed down onto the ground in front of him and said, "[You will take me to the Dragonborn so that I might crush her myself... only then will I give you the sweet release of death.]"

"[You may as well kill me now Alduin, for I will never bow to you again]," Odahviing growled defiantly, raising hackle as he spread his wings, ready to defend himself.

Alduin roared at him and then out of nowhere Rektuhah barreled right into the black dragon, burying his jaws into Alduin's shoulder and tore a chunk from his scaly hide. Alduin hissed in pain, shouting fire at the old dov, but Rektuhah barely budged. He looked at Odahviing and roared, "[FLY MY BROTHER! WARN THE DRAGONBORN!]"

Odahviing took that opportunity to scramble away from the two as they fought. The smaller Revered were on him in seconds though and he roared, throwing them off and flapped his wings hard, taking to the sky. He had to dodge and weave his way through the masses of dragons fighting above them all, he burst through a dust cloud two shouts created and soared swiftly across the crater, beating his wings hard against the air to propel himself forward faster.

He looked on ahead and saw a narrow opening in the icy walls the Frost Dragons were quickly bringing to a close. Odahviing belched his most powerful fire against the dovah and the wall, cracking it. Two of them hissed and clawed at him as he smashed right through the weakened wall. He belted through the skies, with twenty or more dragons on his tail.

Again he felt the sweeping claws and bites of the faster Revered beasts as they caught up to him. Two were crawling all over his massive body like parasites, taking bloody chunks out of his hide. He roared in pain and swept along a mountainside, slamming his body against the rugged rock face, tearing the two creatures from him, sending them crashing to the ground.

He could feel his blood running swiftly, but he had to be quick. He had to escape to find her and to warn her. Odahviing flew over the mountains and down across Winterhold, frightening the mortals below with the sight of twenty dragons chasing after him. He flew south, towards Bonestrewn Crest, not realizing how much he had slowed until one of the larger Frost Dragons caught hold of him, burying their razor-sharp talons into his hide. He roared in pain and spiraled downward, crashing hard into the hot springs below.

He twisted up and around, writhing with the body that was on top of him, trying to throw them off. He fought madly, striking out with every thu'um at his command, especially when the smaller Revered Dragons bore down on him next.

He managed to crush the skulls of four of them in his wildly gnashing jaws but still failed to remove the Frost Dragon from his back as it tore him apart, ripping at his wings. He had a feeling that it was over for him until he saw Krozeim crash into the Frost Dragon on his back. They rolled around in the water, shouting ice and fire at one another while Odahviing continued to tear apart each of the small dragons that hoarded around him. Finally, with the smaller ones killed he rushed in and buried his jaws into the neck of the Frost Dragon and twisted hard, snapping it.

He took a moment to catch his breath and looked on at his fellow who looked worse for wear. "[Brother...]" Ohdaviing breathed, "[We must go to the Throat of the World. To Paarthurnax... he can help us, surely he will help us.]"

Krozeim turned to look at him for a moment, making to reply when his pupils shrank and he roared and Odahviing felt the crushing weight of another dragon smashing into him before it all went dark.

Rona was riding in the back of a carriage as it slowly made its way towards Riften. She'd offered to pay the driver to make it move faster, but he refused saying it was an old carriage and it was in danger of breaking a wheel if he sent it rushing along the rocky path.

She was exhausted, hardly sleeping at all the night before. After breaking away from the assassin and running for her life, she made her way to Kynesgrove, the paranoid mess she was constantly looking over her shoulder and jumping at the sound of everything. She found a carriage driver and paid him a hefty fee to take her overnight to Riften. She'd dozed in the carriage for a few hours on the trip there but woke up again feeling even more anxious about the fact that she'd fallen asleep. Her paranoia was so bad that she even started suspecting that her driver was one of them, one of the Dark Brotherhood.

They'd just passed the last watchtower leading up towards the city and Rona, who was eager to get back into the safety of the Cistern, knew she could walk faster than the rate that the carriage was moving. She hopped out and yelled her thanks to the stunned driver and started sprinting along the path, racing up to the city gates. She was nearly there when someone leapt out of the bushes nearby and doused her in slimy water.

Rona shrieked out of her own terror as Vex jumped in and threw a hand forcefully to her lips and hissed, "SHH!" Then she grabbed Rona by the arm and dragged her back into a nook of the building, forcing her to kneel behind the shrubbery.

Rona held her dripping arms out and gagged as the putrid smell of fish guts overwhelmed her sense of smell. "Ugh... Vex!? Why!? _What is this!?_ Did Delvin put you up to this!?"

Vex threw another hand to her mouth and whispered harshly, " _Just shut the fuck up will you!?_ "

Rona was absolutely perplexed and even more so when Sapphire came up next to them wearing a set of bed sheets as a cloak. It probably would have been more convincing from far away, but up close she just looked ridiculous.

"Sapphire? What are you wearing?" Rona asked, raising a brow.

In a second though they heard some loud barking and Vex said, "Go! Go! Before he gets a chance to catch you!"

"I hear yah," Sapphire grumbled. She bolted from the bushes and made a run for it down the path. Rona watched as a very familiar russet wolf dressed in leather armor darted through the trees and chased after Sapphire then.

Her heart banged in her chest, however, when Bishop stepped out of the trees, looking around for Karnwyr. She knit her brows together at the sight of him. He was _so different_. He was sporting a short wiry beard and his hair had grown out enough that he actually had to tie it back on his head into a short ponytail. He was still in amazing physical condition, in fact, he looked stronger than ever, but his face was so gaunt and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked so tired.

Still, he was as determined as ever and the moment he saw Karnwyr chasing after the short woman he kicked off the ground and raced after her as fast as he could. Rona could hardly believe it... had he been looking for her all this time? Of course, he had. She shook her head. How stupid could she be to think he wouldn't? He'd asked her to marry him. She was everything to him and he was everything to her. The man would never stop looking for her.

She wanted nothing more than to go to him right then, after all, she'd been through, not just in the last few days, but the last six months of hell, she needed him now more than ever. She started getting emotional just seeing him, but as she stood up she felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her back, "You're kidding, right? After all the trouble you and everyone else here has gone through to keep him from finding you in the first place, now you're just going to run off into his arms? And smelling like fish guts to boot?"

This snapped her out of it and Rona took a step back controlling herself, shoving the welling tears back inside herself. Vex was right. He couldn't find her. Not now. And not because of the fishy smell... but because his life depended on it. It was dangerous to get close to her, especially now that the Dark Brotherhood had found her.

"Come on," Vex said, picking a large pack off the ground and tossing it over her shoulder. She grabbed Rona's hand and drew her away from the front gates and around the hold. Rona forced herself to tear her eyes away from Bishop's back as he disappeared down the path, chasing his quarry.

"His mutt sniffed you out in the Flagon the other night," Vex said as Rona numbly followed her towards Lake Honrich, "Luckily you were already gone. Still, he tried to get into the Cistern. Delvin and Dirge were quick to toss both of them out of there. Next thing we know he's roosting up on top of the Black-Briar Manor like a goddamned pigeon just watching the Cistern entrance. Fucking jackass."

Rona could hardly believe her ears. Bishop was always incredibly resourceful at finding his mark, but still… to go to such lengths...

" _Sooo_ , we got the guard involved," Vex laughed, "Just uh, passed off a little tip that someone shady was spotted up on the Black-Briar's roof. I'll tell you one thing, he's really good at playing the drunk card. Acted it all off like he got plastered the night before and just climbed up there and fell asleep. We managed to get him thrown from the city, but that did _not_ stop him from prowling around the forests. That man is fucking determined, I'll give him that much. Makes for a real pain in my ass."

"Why was Karnwyr chasing Sapphire?" Rona asked.

Vex looked back and grinned at her, "Tore your sheets off your bed and fashioned a nice little cloak for her, you know, so she'd smell like you. And uh, sorry about the fish guts, but we couldn't think of anything stronger to douse you in to make you smell like... well... not _you_."

They stopped by the other side of the lake and Vex said, "Alright, I think we're good for now. Delvin paid Sapphire a nice chunk of gold to get her to play along with this and he promised her plenty more if she didn't get caught for a few days."

Rona just stared at her, stunned that they went through all that trouble to keep Bishop from finding her. Vex threw a hand to her nose and coughed a little, waving her other hand at Rona, "Pee-yew! What are you waiting for? Wash up already so we can get going."

Rona looked at her perplexed and asked, "Go where?"

"To the ruins of Avanchnzel. I'd like to get through that place sooner than later. I'm not really one for adventuring and cave crawling you know."

Rona wanted to ask her more questions, but Vex didn't want to smell her anymore so she shoved Rona right into the water making her splash in hard with a yelp. She came up sputtering and coughing, "Hey!"

Vex laughed at her and said, "Come on! Come on! We're wasting daylight shorty!"

Rona scoffed and took her leathers off, leaving just her underwear on,while she thoroughly rinsed them and herself in the chill lake. It wasn't as bad as some of the lakes further to the north but it was still enough to make her shiver. She scrubbed all the fish guts off as best she could and finished off rinsing her hair out with a perfumed tonic she had in her pouch.

After redressing and drying herself off with a quick dry spell Vex took a whiff of her and said, "Eh, still a little fishy but not too bad anymore." She quickly turned on her toe and started speed walking down the path that would lead them to Avanchnzel with her large backpack bouncing behind her.

Rona caught up with her and kept pace asking, "Wait, why are we going there?"

Vex spoke, still looking forward, "It's one of the ruins you haven't visited yet, right?"

Rona frowned at her. How could she possibly know that? Vex gave her a side-long glance and laughed at the face she was making, "Jill, I don't know how to tell you this, but Delvin's a nosy little ass wipe and the locks you keep on your chest are garbage. You should really buy one from me."

"He went through my things!?" Rona blurt incredulously.

Vex shrugged, "Of course he did. He's a fucking thief and a damn pervert if I ever saw one. But he got a hold of your little map and saw that you hadn't been through these ruins yet. They're close enough to Riften though that'll it make this an easy trip... hopefully."

"Why are _you_ coming?"

"You need help with your lockpicking, doncha? What better way to learn than on the job? Knock out two birds with one stone. You learn to pick better and we clear this ruin all at once. Maybe even find what you're looking for."

Rona grasped Vex's arm, stopping her and said seriously, "Vex, this isn't safe. These ruins are extremely dangerous. You have no idea how bad it gets in there. The automatons are bad enough, but if there are Falmer-"

Vex threw a hand up and said, "Look, I get it. I know it's dangerous but it'll be faster with the two of us. You just focus on taking out the enemy and I'll focus on picking locks and when it's safe I'll show you a thing or two."

"I'd rather you didn't," Rona protested.

Vex crossed her arms over and said, "Look, Jill, here's the deal. I'm not doing this for you if that's what you're thinking. Risking my own life for anyone else is the last thing on my mind. That's not my cup of tea," she twirled a finger, "You know, all that heroic shit."

Rona scowled at her and asked, "So what's your angle then?"

"I'm doing this because we need you."

"For what?"

"Got a few big jobs coming up and we need you around for them. So no running off saving the world or any of that nonsense for a while after this," Vex turned away from her and started walking again.

Rona followed and asked, "What jobs?"

"Just focus on this for now, alright? Brynjolf and Mercer will go over the details when we get back."

Rona's heart raced and she shouted, "Wait! Does Mercer know!?"

Vex threw a hand in the air, waving her off, "Don't worry short-stuff. Your secret's safe with us."

With a sigh of relief, Rona carried on quietly with Vex to the Ruins of Avanchnzel. If there was one person she'd absolutely made Delvin promise to never tell about who she really was, it was Mercer Frey. She did not trust the man, not after what she'd seen in Bishop's dreams. If he knew she was the Dragonborn he'd probably sell her out faster than a junkie in need of a skooma fix.

It was only an hour's walk to the ruins with little trouble other than a few wolves and a bear prowling around which Rona took out fairly easily with her bow. The two of them walked up the sloping path and towards the ruins, which Rona was surprised to find were _actual_ ruins this time. The entirety of the Dwemer tower had crumbled and broken apart, but there was a cave opening at the top of a winding ramp.

The machines within were still active though, which was made apparent by the amount of steam coming from the pipes along the mountainside. Rona's stomach turned as she thought of the possibility of Falmer lurking within. She'd never really gotten over her fear of the creatures after her horrible childhood experience with them when they'd kidnapped her and drug her down into their caverns.

But now she had just what she needed to fend off those vicious creatures. She gripped at the dagger on her hip and stepped forward, leading the way up to the opening of the ruins. She and Vex both looked in just as a gust of wind blew through the cavern making it give off an eerie howl.

Rona looked over at Vex who was making the most, _fuck that_ , face she'd ever seen. She said, "You really don't have to do this Vex. I swore a long time ago that I'd never let anyone risk their lives for me or this journey ever again… you really, _really_ don't have to do this."

She just took a deep breath, shrugged her shoulders and said, "Got a lot of gold riding on this. Let's just get it over with…"

She went in and Rona moved ahead of her saying, "Let me take the lead. You watch my back and if things get bad promise me you'll run for it."

Vex scoffed, "Oh trust me shorty, I am not opposed to shamelessly leaving you behind while I run screaming for my life."

Rona laughed at her and said, "Good to know."

(Recommended Background Music _He Who Desires_ by Peter Gundry)

The two didn't get terribly far into the ruins before they were met with the figures of four orange glowing ghosts below a ridge. They ducked down behind a rock as the translucent beings spoke to one another.

"I don't like this place. It feels like we're being… watched," a male Nord said.

A Nord female replied, "It's a simple job, Drennen. We get in, we steal the Lexicon, we leave. Don't get jumpy."

"If you two can't handle this, we can find others to hire," an Argonian man hissed.

"Enough," an Argonian female spat at them, "Their services will be more than adequate. Let us continue."

In a second they all vanished. Vex sounded on edge, "Well that was creepy."

Rona stood up and started moving down the stone ramp, saying, "Sometimes ghosts appear around me. Don't worry, they can't hurt us."

Vex stared off after her before opening a pocket in her pouch. She looked down at the whirring and orange glowing Lexicon inside of it and grumbled, "Fucking Delvin… I swear if this shit gets us killed…"

"Vex?" Rona called back over her shoulder.

"Hang on, I'm comin'," Vex buttoned her pouch back up and hurried along after Rona following close behind her.

As they moved further into the tunnels they encountered several Dwarven Spiders which were patrolling the path and attempting to repair the damaged and broken piping that ran through the walls. Rona took care of them quickly with her dual-blades, clearing the way for their progression into the ruins.

The cavern ended and they stepped into a wide open chamber with more broken and leaking piping and several doorways. Again the spirits appeared before them conversing as though the two women weren't there at all.

The Nord called Drennen spoke to his male Argonian companion, "This place is unbelievable."

"Indeed," the Argonian replied, "Avanchnzel is as much a library as it is a city. Built to hold the vast memories of the Dwemer."

Rona's heart raced at that small bit of information. Maybe if the Elder Scroll wasn't inside this ruin it might hold the secrets to which Dwemer Ruin it was actually being housed in.

She was disappointed that the ghosts vanished so quickly after only taking a few steps forward, she was hoping that they might have more to say. Vex stood at her side, hands to her hips as she looked around at the damp, steam-filled cavern and asked, "So! Where to first?"

"We should press on the same way the spirits went. Chances are what we're looking for is further in. I try not to worry too much about the smaller loot laying around because it's usually surrounded by traps and doesn't have much else to offer other than rusty old Dwemer materials."

Rona moved on ahead, pushing her way through the large doors in front of them as Vex rolled a dirty ruby between her ringers, "You sure you don't want to pick up some of this stuff? I found some nice jewels a little way back there. These are worth a lot."

Rona laughed and said, "Try not to get bogged down with too much stuff Vex. If things go bad you want to be light on your feet for a quick escape."

"Right, right."

They crept quietly through the stone corridor taking care not to make too much noise as they walked across some metal grating. Something emitted a strange whirring and clicking noise, however, and the Dwarven chutes along the walls opened suddenly sending out a small battalion of Dwarven Spheres.

"SHIT!" Vex spat as she immediately started dodging the attacks of one. Rona was quick to move, shouting her Elemental Fury to speed up her attacks as she swiftly drew her swords. She spun madly on her toe, taking out each Sphere as they rushed her, knowing exactly where to hit the metal automatons to put a stop to them entirely.

Vex, however, was not doing as well, getting herself cornered by three of them and shouting, "LITTLE HELP OVER HERE!" Rona kicked off the ground, using her Whirlwind Sprint to propel herself and spun through the air, landing between Vex and the automatons. She managed to block their attacks with her swords before catching her breath and shouting, "IIZ SLEN!"

In a second the mechanical monsters were frozen solid. She watched as the gears and pistons continued to whir and pump through the ice, trying to operate the metal machinery. Rona held her swords up aiming for their cores and stabbed her blade through the ice, crushing the cores within each of them. They stopped moving entirely and both women took a moment to compose themselves.

Rona looked back at Vex and asked, "Are you alright?"

Vex was clutching her dagger hard enough to whiten her knuckles as she wiped the sweat from her brow, "Yeah… I'm fine."

"I won't blame you if you head back now," Rona encouraged her, "I think I can manage on my own. I'm not that worried about the locks."

Vex's lip twitched and she rubbed at a bad cut on her arm, grumbling, "No… it's fine. I'm alright."

"Here," Rona grasped her arm and healed it up with her magic, "What's making you so determined to keep going anyhow?"

"Gold, what else?"

"For the loot?" Rona asked raising a brow.

Vex scoffed, "Fuck no. Not even these little gems are worth all this. Delvin's paying me. He fished a nice chunk of gold off that man of yours the other night and he's been using it to bribe the rest of us."

Rona gaped at her, "He stole from Bishop!?"

"Well, what do you expect when you walk into the literal den of Thieves and start tossing outrageous amounts of coin around?"

"What do you mean?"

Vex grinned and laughed, " _Riiight_ , forgot you didn't know that part. Yeah, the ranger comes in dumping fifty thousand big ones right on Delvin's table and demands he go back and drag you out. Ridiculous right? Where'd he even get gold like that?"

Rona realized immediately, "His winnings." Vex stared at her, confused. "Bishop fought in the Arena in the Imperial City some time ago. He actually won the championship and well… he has a lot of money now."

And naturally, he would use that money to find her. To think Bishop would impoverish himself just to find her again. It made her smile a little. The man never needed much in life. Enough gold to enjoy the comforts of a drink and an inn on occasion, but he preferred the peace and comfort of a simple bedroll and sleeping under the stars at night. She wanted to enjoy that with him again too.

"We gonna get moving or?" Vex was staring at her as she lost herself in her brief memories.

Rona blushed and muttered, "Oh, sorry."

Vex smirked, "Thinking of him aren't you?"

"What? No," Rona quickly brushed past her continuing through the winding tunnels.

As they continued on through each passage Rona kept hearing the same strange whirring and clicking sound and started to notice that the automatons seemed dead set on attacking Vex over her.

Rona urged her Guildmate to run as the automatons started appearing at an overwhelming rate. They rushed along the path and pushed their way through some doors into a winding corridor. Both threw their weight into slamming the doors shut and Rona shouted, "Step back!" Vex jumped out of the way allowing Rona to use her thu'um against the door sealing it in unbreakable ice.

They both bent over, clutching their knees and chests trying to catch their breath then. Rona made to say something when the spirits appeared once more.

"Why are all these… _things_ , ignoring us Roots?" The Nord woman asked.

"Avanchnzel is waiting," the Argonian man, Roots, proclaimed ominously so.

"Waiting for what?"

"No one seems to know. Perhaps the return of the Dwemer. Perhaps the ending of the world. You needn't worry though Breya. They won't bother us."

This did not assuage Breya's fears as she muttered, "Best get rid of the ones we see. Just in case."

The ghostly group vanished again and Vex groaned, standing back upright, "Wish these damned things would ignore us!"

Rona looked hard at her and asked, "Have you noticed that weird sound every time we get near the automatons?"

"No," Vex said, "It's not just another noise these things make?"

"I've never heard them make that sound before," Rona said narrowing her eyes at Vex, "And they keep targeting you. Why is that?"

"Well don't look at me," Vex snapped, "You think I _want_ these metal monsters crawling all up my ass?"

Rona frowned at her and averted her gaze. It didn't make sense. Why would the automatons be attacking Vex first over the _Dragonborn_ of all people? Even if they could sense that particular difference between the two of them somehow wouldn't it be better to overwhelm the more powerful of the two first before taking down the weaker?

She shrugged it off and turned back down the path leading the way further in saying, "Just stay close to me. I don't trust leaving you alone around these things."

"Couldn't agree more shorty."

Rona rolled her eyes. The Guild members could never resist teasing her for her height and they'd affectionately settled on 'short-stuff' and 'shorty' for her. Although she would have preferred it if they just used her alias, "I have a name you know."

Vex laughed, "Yeah, but that's not your real name either, _Jill_."

"So? It's better than being picked on for my height all the time."

"You never seemed to mind it before," Vex scoffed at her back, "What's got you in such a bad mood?"

The Dwemer Ruins always put her in a bad mood. But even worse was everything else she'd experienced in the last day or so and to top it all off Bishop had been nearly in arms reach of her and she just let him run away, none the wiser that she was standing right there.

It put her in a terrible mood because she hadn't wanted to see him until it was all over and done with. Seeing him now just brought back all her memories and left her heart wanting and hurting for something she knew she couldn't have yet.

She ignored Vex and pushed on, taking her anger out on each and every Dwemer automaton that crossed their paths until finally, they reached an expansive space with four bedrolls, a tent, and even an old fire pit. The ghosts appeared once more speaking quietly to one another as they sat around an invisible fire.

"Pass it here Fathoms, I'm parched," Breya said to the Argonian woman. Fathoms handed her an old waterskin.

Drennen sounded apprehensive as he gripped his knees, remarking, "This place is huge."

"It is large, indeed," Roots agreed, "I did not anticipate Avanchnzel's size or the time needed to uncover the entrance. A few hours sleep and we should be ready to continue through."

"Maybe we should turn back," Drennen said anxiously, "I don't want to sleep here."

Roots chided him, "Drennen, do you understand that the Lexicon at the bottom of this place holds accumulated memories of centuries of Dwemer?"

"Not to mention our pay," Breya added quickly.

"So?" Drennen frowned.

"So we're not turning back, you fool," Fathoms snapped.

"Besides," Breya smirked, "you're not afraid of a few sleeping metal men, are you, Drennen?"

Drennen gave her one last nervous glance before the spirits vanished again. Rona sat down by the burned out fire pit, lighting it with her magic and started healing up the scrapes and cuts on her hands and arms. The Lexicon. It held the memories of the Dwemer. She felt determined to find it and was glad that it wasn't another fruitless journey into some terrible ruin.

Vex just stared at her, tapping a foot and Rona without looking at her said, "Better settle in for a while because I need some rest."

"Oh come on," Vex urged, "We're nearly there!"

Rona smirked at the woman cocking her head a little, "We have no idea how much farther it is. We should get some sleep while we can."

Vex grumbled and slumped down onto one of the bedrolls by Rona, "I'm with that Drennen guy, _fuck_ this place."

"Told you that you shouldn't have come," Rona said mindlessly as she yanked her waterskin from her side and took a deep drink from it.

"It's probably not even dark outside yet," Vex argued.

"Look, I'm tired. I hardly slept at all last night and these last few days have taken a lot out of me."

Vex looked her and really started to study her, "Yeah you do look like shit. More Dragonborn stuff?"

"Something like that."

Vex sighed, rolling her eyes and fell back onto the bedroll, "Guess I'll take first watch then since I'm not even tired."

"I appreciate that," Rona said as she curled up onto the bedroll she was sitting on. It didn't take much for her pass out completely considering she'd hardly slept in the last few days. She dreamed of Bishop who held his arms out to her calling her name. But it wasn't her real name…

"Jill… Jillian!"

She shook her head and tried to say, _that's not my name_. She started running to him but he seemed ever out of her reach and then he called her true name.

"Rona… Rona! _RONA!_ "

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up just as the sharp point of a Dwarven Spider's claw pierced her pillow. Rona was quick to move, swiping the dagger from her hip and slamming it into the Spider's dome, making it spark and explode electrically. It burned her arms and she grit her teeth from the pain, but she had no time to worry herself with that when she realized then that, that was not the only one.

She was literally surrounded by dozens of Dwarven Spiders, Spheres and even one enormous Centurion was attempting to enter the room. She looked up to see Vex fending off a horde of Spiders on a ledge as she roared, "RONA! LITTLE HELP!?" Vex kicked one of the Spiders right off the ledge, sending it careening through the air before it slammed into one of the Spheres swiping sharply at Rona.

She leapt to her feet, sheathed her dagger, drew both of her swords. She kicked off the ground, using her Whirlwind Sprint to weave and dodge through the onslaught of Dwemer automatons, cutting them down with her powerful blades as she worked her way up to Vex. She froze time as needed and buried her blades into the cores of as many Spiders and Spheres that she could, but more and more just kept coming and then the Dwarven Centurion broke down the doors and smashed up the wall.

Vex shrieked, " _That's it! Fuck this! Damn it Delvin! Gods damn that fucking bastard!_ " She ripped a satchel from her belt and threw it hard across the room. In a second all of the automatons gave up their attack against her and swarmed towards the pouch on the floor, including the enormous Centurion, which lumbered along, crushing several of the automatons under its feet.

Rona just stared off at the metal creatures as they fought to collect the satchel. She had no better opportunity to take them out so she shouted, "TIID KLO UL!"

She ran forward and started tearing each of them apart, shattering their cores with her blades and then she turned on the Centurion and sheathed one of her blades allowing her to yank the Razor from her hip. She scraped around the sides of the Dynamo Core on the mechanical beast, ripping out the thing which powered its body just as Time resumed its normal pace.

All the automatons whirred to a stop and collapsed on the ground at her feet. She caught her breath and looked down at the little pouch on the floor, then picked it up and shook out the contents. A single, orange glowing and whirring cube fell out into her open palm. She looked up at Vex and snapped, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?"

Vex defiantly crossed her arms, pursed her lips and muttered, "Uhh... it's the Lexicon."

"What do you mean it's the Lexicon!?"

"Look! I don't know! Delvin gave it to me! Said some crazy Argonian bitch dumped it in his lap one day and told him to take it back to Avanchnzel," she threw her arms harshly down at her sides, gripping her fists and shouted, "That ass told me that it was the key to some treasure! That fucking liar!"

Rona grit her teeth and curled her fingers before she gave an exasperated sigh and pressed her forefinger and thumb to the space between her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Vex immediately crossed her arms again, " _Because_ ," she mumbled, "I wanted to see if the treasure was worth keeping to myself..."

Rona threw her hand down and glared up at Vex, "This is _not_ something you keep a secret in a place like this! All the automatons have been trying to get this thing back! The Dwemer were super protective and secretive of everything! All these little creatures they made, were made to keep secrets like _this_ ," she furiously held up the Lexicon, "safe from intruders like _us_ ," she hit her palm on her chest.

Vex was looking sour, scrunching her face up when she finally sighed and said, "Yeah alright. Fine... _you're right_. I should have told you."

As Vex started climbing back down from the ledge Rona took a moment to look over the strange cube in her hand. Chances are the knowledge of the Dwemer was somewhere inside that strange receptacle and quite possibly the location of the Elder Scroll itself. But the only way to access that information would be deeper in the depths of the ruins, in a place where the Dwemer had developed the technology capable of accessing information from the Lexicon.

Rona didn't want to risk anymore. As Vex came up beside her, almost looking apologetic she said, "I'm going to hang onto this and I'm going to tear this place apart. So do me a favor and just stand back for a bit, alright?"

"No problem shorty," Rona flashed her an angry glare and Vex coughed saying, "Jill... I mean Jill."

Rona put the Lexicon back into the satchel and tied it to her belt. She took a deep breath and summoned all the strength of her voice into one powerful song.

(The Song is _And We Run_ \- no rap version, YouTube it + Free Download - by Within Temptation)

Rona drew both her blades and burst forward, taking the lead as she ran through the ruins, waking up every automaton in that horrible place. She sang loud, sending the creatures back with the Unrelenting Force of her words. She burned them up, froze them over and literally crushed them with her song of power. It was everything she felt in that moment all poured into her music.

 _"It burns into your heart, the darkness that you fear  
You were never free and you never realized  
And love is a word you've never heard  
Your heart ain't cold 'cause it burns, a desire to leave the mire_

 _Take your breath till nothing's left  
Scars of life upon your chest  
And I know wherever it goes_

 _And we run with a lonely heart  
And we run for this killin' love  
And we run to the heavens above  
Yeah, we run, runnin' in the dark  
And we run till we fall apart  
And we run to the heavens above"_

Vex could barely keep up with the tiny Dragonborn, marveling at how she absolutely destroyed the mechanical monsters with the strange music that poured in around them from nowhere. She was grateful though, hoping it would all be over soon enough. They didn't even stop to listen to the four strange ghosts that appeared before them anymore. Rona was truly determined to finish their adventure in those ruins and it was all Vex could do to keep up with her. She seemed to lose her for a moment as they rounded into an enormous chamber with two large Dwarven Centurions which shuddered to life and started attacking the Dragonborn.

Vex could hardly believe her eyes as the girl blinked from one place to the next in seconds. She knew it was some kind of weird magic, the same she'd used earlier with her voice. She was slowly starting to understand just why this girl always came back to the Cistern broken, bruised and bloody. With the way she fought and the things she fought, it was amazing to her that she was still alive at all.

Finally, Rona tore down the last Centurion. She looked exhausted, as her chest heaved and her skin glistened with blood and sweat. Vex watched as she sheathed her blades and pulled the Lexicon from the satchel on her hip. The thing was clicking and whirring madly like it knew exactly where they were. Vex felt her skin prickle anxiously as Rona stepped forward and made to put that damn thing back on its pedestal. She wanted to shout at her, to tell her to stop, that she didn't trust it, but it was too late. The moment the Dragonborn set the Lexicon into its reservoir her entire body shone an unnatural orange color and her grip tightened on the Lexicon as she seized up, threw her head back and released a blood-curdling scream throughout the stone chamber.


	6. Chapter 6 Blood Thief

**Chapter 6**

 **Blood Thief**

A tall Altmer stepped out of the Bee and Barb dressed in his blue tunic, dark trousers, and black cloak. His long tawny brown hair had been neatly tied back on his head and cascaded down between his shoulder blades. He was incredibly handsome for an Altmer and commanded the attention of many women as he walked with a confident gait to his step. He paid no mind to the wondering whispers or giggling women around him as he went, however, for he was on a mission that morning.

Ever since the night before, when he caught a peculiar elvish woman speaking with his contract, and especially when she managed to escape his grasp with magic he'd never seen before, he'd made it his purpose to find out who she was.

It wasn't so much just his own innate curiosity about her, but the fact that it was law within his order. If one was to steal a contract from you, their life was forfeit to Sithis. Not to mention stealing contracts was akin to stealing the life-blood of those who enforced them.

And without the Listener real contracts were hard to come by those days. He could feel the wraithlike grip tightening on his right arm as the Black Hand grew that much larger, reaching for his heart, intending to take his soul in place of the ones he failed to send forth to the Dread Father.

He'd managed to catch up to her in Kynesgrove when she rented a carriage. The horse and buggy moved along slowly despite her pleas for the driver to send them cantering along the road. The Altmer had watched all of this, staring hard at the woman with the white-blonde hair that had tangled down her back from her fearful fleeing of Windhelm. Her golden eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, darted around through the dark, searching for the one following her. He'd never seen eyes quite like that before, they seemed unnatural.

He remembered her from the second-hand shop in the Gray-Quarter. She appeared normal enough then, if a bit on edge at the time, confused about her own reasons for being in the shop. He brushed it off as her being a little airheaded maybe. But now, after listening to her speak to the boy, telling him that she'd murdered the old woman, he realized that there was far more to this woman than first met the eye.

It was a rare thing for one to steal contracts from the Brotherhood, but for this tiny elf woman to have done so made it that much more odd to him. What reason would she have for doing such a thing? And to even seek out the one who gave the contract, yet refuse payment... he was dumbfounded. Perhaps she had her own personal vendetta against the old headmistress. He wasn't sure, but soon he would find out.

He strolled along through Riften, following the path overlooking the river until finally he passed the Jarl's keep and stood in front of the ramshackle orphanage. He heard the sounds of happy children playing out in the yard.

"Die Tullius! I stabbed you in the heart!" A young boy cried. Then another boy started giggling and the first whined, "Come on Francois, you're supposed to play dead, not laugh."

"But it tickles!"

The Altmer was pleased to hear the children in such high spirits. He'd been through Riften many times over the years and had witnessed firsthand the abuses their old headmistress had foisted upon them. It had been a place of misery and sorrow for so long. When he'd heard about the Aretino boy praying for the death of Grelod the Kind, he'd actually been looking forward to sending her soul to the Void.

As the children continued to giggle and play together, the Altmer stepped forward and rapped loudly several times on the door. The children in the yard immediately ceased their playing to see who had come calling, both climbing up on the fence to peer over the wall. The Altmer paid them no mind as he patiently waited for their new caretaker to answer.

Finally, after a muffled, "Be right there! No - _no_ Runa, I told you to stop that. Go play _nicely_ and quietly on your bed for now," the door swung open and he was greeted by a dark-haired Imperial woman who looked a little worse for wear. She gave him a quick once over with her very blood-shot eyes. He couldn't tell if it was from crying or heavy drinking. He assumed the latter considering the smell on her breath. "Yes? How can I help you?" She asked warily.

He met her eyes with his own dark-blue ones and spoke with a polite but authoritative tone, "I apologize for bothering you so early this morning ma'am. I'm an agent sent here on behalf of the Imperial Legion, specifically the Penitus Oculatus," he presented a formal looking sheet of parchment paper, passing it off to her and continued talking, giving her his alias, "My name is Lurin Lachance and I would like to speak with you about the previous night's events. May I come in?"

She glanced at the near perfect forgery of a page in her hands and looked back at him, suddenly flustered and stammered, "Um... oh... well - yes of course. Please come in."

She stepped out of the way allowing him to enter the premises and closed the door behind him. He looked around at the messy hovel of an orphanage. The evidence of children living there was scattered around the floors and tables in the form of small toys and child-sized clothing. He noticed one little boy sitting at a nearby table messily eating a sweetroll and drinking a cup of milk. Although the child's mouth and shirt were covered in crumbs and spills, he seemed quite content like that. The boy looked over at the tall Altmer and grinned sheepishly at him showing off the milk moustache over his lip and the crumbs stuck between his teeth. The Altmer merely raised a brow and turned his attention back to the woman saying, "I'm sorry, but I didn't get your name."

"Oh! I'm Constance Michel, the uh... one of the caretakers here. Well," she awkwardly rubbed her arm, "the _only_ caretaker now... um, you said the Imperial Legion sent you?"

"Yes, they sent me after we received word that the Dark Brotherhood may have been involved in a murder here."

She started fussing with her hair, mindlessly running her fingers through it, "That's... I really wasn't expecting anyone so soon." She seemed more concerned about the fact that she hadn't tidied up before having company over as she nervously looked around at all the piles of toys and clothing.

"With the persistence of the civil war we have troops stationed in many encampments around the holds," he explained to her. It was a lie of course and he lied to her as effortlessly as breathing, "As such word travels fast and despite what many here in Skyrim may think of him, the Emperor has always regarded crimes carried out by the Dark Brotherhood as a top priority. Sussing and stamping out the Brotherhood is one of our main objectives as Oculatus agents."

"I see," she said slowly, taking one more brief look at the formal looking document in her hand. Then she looked back up at him and asked, "We already told the town guards everything about this matter. Maybe you should speak with them first, Mister...Lachance was it?"

"I've already spoken with the local guard, however, they couldn't recall very many details. Not only that, but I really do need to speak with whoever was present and may have seen anything directly at the time." 

"Oh dear," she sighed, "Alright then, you'll want to speak with Hroar. He..." she hesitated and swallowed back what seemed like a sob as she knit her brows tightly together, "he saw the whole thing."

She led the way into an open room with four children's beds pressed against the walls. Plenty more toys, books and clothes lay strewn about the floor and a little girl with bright blonde hair sat on her bed, playing with two dolls. One of them she mimicked as stabbing the other repeatedly all while she giggled madly to herself. Constance noticed and immediately went over to her, speaking in a hushed voice, "Runa what did I tell you!? Stop that right this instant!"

Runa pouted and whined, " _Yeeesss_ Constance... sorry."

Constance frowned and muttered, "You don't have to apologize like that Runa, just... no more _bad_ playing, alright?"

The little girl nodded her head and Constance resumed leading the Altmer outside into the yard. They caught sight of the two boys smacking wooden swords together as they laughed and yelled out things they assumed soldiers would shout out as they fought. Constance interrupted them saying, "Hroar, sweetie? There's someone here who needs to talk to you about... about what happened the other night."

"Aw, again?" Hroar whined as he stopped his sword-playing.

The other boy whapped him on the arm with his sword and shouted, "I win Hroar! You're dead! As dead as Grelod!"

He laughed maniacally and Constance hissed, "Francois! Get inside right now!"

Francois blanched and looked back saying, "Sorry Constance... I didn't mean it, I swear."

"Just... inside. _Now_ ," she pointed at the door and Francois slumped his shoulders and stepped back into the orphanage.

Constance stood there expectantly and Hroar just stared up at the Altmer. Finally, he turned to the woman and said, "If you don't mind Miss Michel, I would like to speak to the boy alone. I hope you'll understand, sometimes it's easier for young children to speak more freely without an authority figure nearby."

She blinked and said, "Oh, yes… please excuse me…"

She shuffled back into the orphanage, closing the door over partway and the Altmer glanced around and noticed a small bench pressed against the wall, "Why don't we sit down, Hroar?" He took a seat on the bench and Hroar frowned at it.

"No, that's okay… I'll stand."

The Altmer raised his brows at him but didn't push the issue. He folded his hands in his lap and put on a soft, concerned expression, one that he would use on the rare occasions he dealt with young children, "So, Hroar, please start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened the night your headmistress was murdered."

"Everything?"

"Everything you remember, if you can."

Hroar shifted weight from one leg to the next and lowered his eyes while his hands fussed with the hem of his shirt.

The Altmer leaned forward, tilting his head to look up into the boy's face and gave him a gentle smile, "Don't worry, you needn't hold back Hroar. I already know how cruel your headmistress was to all of you. It's alright to feel happy that she's dead."

The boy met the Altmer's kindly gaze and smirked a little. He crossed his arms, taking a haughtier stance then and said, "Alright… well the night it happened I was playing tag with my friend Samuel and I ran right into Grelod and spilled her wine everywhere. She was _so_ mad. I knew I was in for the beating of a lifetime when she started screaming at me, so I ran out here in the yard and hid behind some bushes. I…" he faltered but the Altmer just waited patiently for his reply, "I was really scared… it was always the worst when she'd get her stupid stick to hit us with. I saw her come outside and she said she'd whip me so hard that I wouldn't sit for a week and well… she was right about that."

He rubbed his rear through his pants, wincing a little, "She made me drop my pants and hit me a bunch of times. Then she stopped for a minute and when I looked back I saw someone holding their knife right in Grelod's throat!" He was grinning wildly and starting to sound excited, "It was crazy and amazing! I'd always wished and prayed for someone to come kill her and it actually happened right in front of me!"

The Altmer leaned back a little and asked, "What did the assassin look like, do you remember?"

"I'm pretty sure it was a lady. She was really short and actually had to yank on Grelod's hair to pull her down so she could reach her neck. I couldn't see much because it was really dark out. But I think she had blonde hair, maybe. I dunno… The guards asked me a bunch about her too but I really can't remember."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"No, nothing. But she looked really angry like she was possessed or something, I coulda sworn her eyes were glowing red. Then she started freaking out, _buuut_ that was probably because Constance came outside and saw her. Then she hopped right over the fence and was gone. You shoulda seen it though!" He threw his hands out animatedly, "There was _so much blood!_ And Grelod just laid there in it making some weird noises before she finally croaked," he smirked and said, "I'm happy she's dead. Things have been real nice around here now. I mean, Constance has been pretty upset but she'll get over it, right?"

The Altmer stood up and said, "Thank you, Hroar. You've been very helpful."

As the Altmer went to step back into the building the boy said almost defiantly, "I hope you never catch her. The Dark Brotherhood is the greatest."

The Altmer smiled inwardly to himself and walked through the door. He spoke briefly with Constance, thanking her for her cooperation while she attempted to herd the boy who was covered in milk and crumbs towards the cellar bathing room.

He stepped outside and moved on to his next destination which was right around the corner. He strolled past the Jarl's keep and went back around the Black-Briar manor and into a stone mausoleum. He found the hidden switch under the coffin lid and pushed on the diamond symbol in the center. The hidden entrance to the Cistern quietly opened up and he hurried down the stairs. He yanked on the wall chain, shutting the entrance and took his tunic off. Underneath he always wore his black and red leather armor. He pulled his hood over his head, tucking his tawny brown hair into it and pulled his face mask up over his nose and mouth.

This was no casual visit and he was expected to present himself as professionally as possible as a representative of his organization. With his attire properly outfitted he made his way down the ladder leading into the Cistern and came out on the other side. He found a few of the usual thieves standing around laughing and discussing their previous night's contracts but they all stopped talking the moment the dim lighting revealed his armor and they realized who he was.

One of the men, a Dunmer, fidgeted nervously, but the other two, both Nords, stood there stony-faced watching closely while the Altmer passed by. He immediately aimed for the desk set in the corner of the Cistern where Delvin Mallory, Mercer Frey, and Brynjolf were deep in discussion as they looked over a map sprawled out on the table.

Frey was running a finger across it and said, "If she takes this lower path around the outer walls she can easily avoid the mercenaries stationed around the grounds to get to the hives."

"She's no stranger to killing Mercer," Delvin said, "considering she used to be a mercenary herself."

"Yes… _I'm aware_ ," Frey said with annoyance, "I'm hoping she might be able to redeem herself by _not_ going out of her way to start trouble for once. This is a stealth mission, not a –" Frey stopped talking the moment he noticed the assassin approaching them. The Altmer stood in front of the desk and the men exchanged glances.

Delvin smirked and said, "Niven. Been a while. How's the missus?"

"She's well," Niven replied curtly.

"Something wrong with the dead drop?" Delvin asked with a serious look, "Because if you're bringing me my contracts, now's not the best time."

"No, I'm not here to bring any contracts. I have business with your Guild Master here."

Frey crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "I don't recall any scheduled meetings with the Brotherhood."

"This wasn't planned or expected," Niven said, "So I do apologize for coming here without prior notice, but it seems we've encountered a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Brynjolf asked, looking genuinely curious.

"You have a Blood Thief among you," Niven said matter-of-factly.

All their eyes widened in shock and Brynjolf breathed, "Impossible…"

Frey got defensive, "My people know better than that. We have strict rules here. No killing or murder or any of it."

"Who do you suspect?" Delvin asked quickly.

"I don't have a name," Niven said.

Frey scoffed at him, "Then what proof do you have that it's one of ours?"

Niven slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded parchment and passed it to Frey, saying, "I saw her with Vex and Sapphire this morning just outside the hold. She must be new because I've never met her before. Perhaps you'll recognize her though." 

Frey unfolded the parchment while Delvin and Brynjolf peered over his shoulders.

"Oh, fucking 'ell Jill…" Delvin mumbled. 

"There's no way," Brynjolf gaped.

Frey tossed the detailed pencil sketch of the young woman in question onto the desk and growled, "This is bullshit. Jill's a terrible thief and all she's ever been good for is forgery and numbers! How could she possibly get away with murder!?"

"Did you not just say that she's no stranger to killing? A former mercenary?" Niven remarked pointedly, looking right at Delvin.

"What? _Me?_ " Delvin threw a hand to his chest and protested, "I didn't say that."

Niven looked unamused at Delvin.

Frey was also staring hard at Delvin and then the wheels seemed to click in place when he said, "Hang on. What the hell were Jill, Vex, and Sapphire doing outside Riften? You running jobs behind my back Mallory?"

Delvin furrowed his brows and scoffed, " _Really_ Mercer? You gonna accuse me of thieving right under _your_ nose? I'm not stupid. I know nothin' gets past you."

"Then what in Nocturnal's name are the girls up to?"

"'Ow am I supposed to know!?" Delvin spat back, "You know women! Runnin' off doin' whatever they like - _female things_. Probably have some dates tonight or somethin'."

Brynjolf looked appalled at that notion and Delvin quickly said, "Well maybe Jill or Sapphire do and Vex is just helpin' pretty 'em up. Look, all I know is that those three have been getting' along thick as thieves lately," he smirked a little at his own awful joke.

Frey didn't seem convinced but chose not to argue it further and looked back at Niven, "Who exactly do you think she killed anyways?"

"The old woman from the orphanage," Niven replied.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Frey snarled, "That was _her!?_ "

Brynjolf was rubbing his hand to his forehead now, looking like he was staving off the impending headache that would ensue as a result of this. "Gods…" he breathed then looked over at Frey, "What will we do now? Without her, all our plans for the Goldenglow job are off."

Frey looked right at Niven and asked curtly, "When do you need her by?"

Niven gave a light laugh, "You know the rules. She's ours now."

" _Fuck_ ," Frey growled, "Damn it all to Oblivion!" He slammed his hands on the desk, tipping over an inkpot and tossing several quills off.

"Look, we just need her for this one job," Brynjolf pleaded, "We can't do it without her, everything is riding on this."

"That's not my problem," Niven was entirely apathetic, "You know the rules. She stole a contract, the literal life-blood of our organization. Speaking of," he looked right at Delvin and his smirk could be heard under his mask, "how's your mark these days, Delvin? Feeling a little tight on the arm?"

Delvin scowled at him, "Yeah, well if you'd all just drop some contracts off for me it wouldn't be so fucking bad."

"Hard to do when you've all got Blood Thieves in your midst," he retorted.

"Look, Jill ain't no Blood Thief, damn it," Delvin snapped at him, "She wouldn't 'ave killed the woman unless she had a damn good reason to!"

"And what reason would she have for stabbing an old woman in the throat in front of a child no less?" Niven shot back.

Delvin stared at him speechless before averting his eyes and shaking his head.

Niven turned back to Frey and narrowed his sharp blue eyes at him, "If you break the rules you know the consequences."

Frey waved him off, "Yeah, yeah… we get it. It'll rain blood and death and darkness and all that Dread Father mumbo jumbo. Whatever. Fine… give the coordinates to Delvin and we'll see that she's sent your way."

"Mercer," Delvin gaped at him incredulously.

"Well, what do you expect!?" Frey snarled, "That girl's been nothing but trouble since she came here. Failed all her heists, sweeps, burglaries and fishing jobs. She couldn't even handle it when we gave her shill jobs when the deal was to hide something _in_ someone's damn house!"

"She's our best with numbers-" Delvin tried to argue but Frey threw a hand up, interrupting him.

"So you keep saying, but she hasn't even given us a good return on those either. She's late for nearly every one of those jobs because she's too busy getting herself into trouble doing mercenary nonsense. I don't know why she's trying to be a godsdamned thief in the first place," then he narrowed his eyes at Delvin, "Or why _you're_ so keen on keeping her around."

Delvin pressed his lips together and muttered, "She's the kid of a family friend… promised her mum I'd look out for her."

"Well it's too late for you to save her now and I'll be damned if I keep a fucking Blood Thief around, _literally_ ," he said motioning to the assassin in front of them, "Time to let her go Delvin. In the meantime, Brynjolf and I will see what we can do to salvage this..."

With a low grumble, Delvin started leading Niven back to the Flagon. They heard Frey and Brynjolf continue their discussion as they went.

"Vex could probably fit," Brynjolf said.

Mercer snorted a laugh, "With those udders of hers? I doubt it."

"Hey! Watch it," Brynjolf said warningly.

"Oh come now Brynjolf, don't think we haven't noticed the rack on your girl."

"Don't let her hear you saying any of that now," Brynjolf groaned, "Or she'll have my snowberries in a damn vice…"

"Oh, she doesn't already?" Frey cackled raucously. 

Delvin rolled his eyes as they stepped through the door leading into the Flagon. He diverted off to the nearby private room and turned back to face Niven, surprising the Altmer by giving him a deeply pleading look. He'd never in his life seen Delvin Mallory, of all people, with that expression. "Look, I'll make you a deal. You can have my next five contracts for yourselves. Just please don't do this. Don't take her."

Niven raised a brow and said, "Can't do that Delvin."

"Astrid doesn't even 'ave to know about it!" Delvin argued.

"Astrid is already well aware of the situation. Who do you think sent me?"

" _Fuck!_ " Delvin spat turning his head away. He looked like he was thinking hard, trying to figure some way out of the mess this woman had gotten herself into.

"Who is this woman to you, Delvin? Surely she must be more than just a family friend if you're this concerned for her."

Delvin met his gaze then, his brows knit tightly together as he swallowed hard, "I can't tell you and this can't happen to her. She can't be one of the Brotherhood. I'm beggin' yah, Niven. Don't do this to the poor girl. She's been through enough as it is."

Then he started fishing around his pockets and pulled out a thick coin purse, "Here, it's about ten grand in there. Just take it, give it to Astrid with our apologies. Take my next five – _shit_ , take my next _ten_ contracts. It'll be risky for damn sure, this fucking death grip getting tighter every day," he said rubbing his right arm, "but you can't have her."

Niven was taken aback. Delvin was proving himself to be an entirely different person that evening. His desperation only left the Altmer feeling even more curious about the woman in question. He just shook his head and said, "She has three days to get to Morthal, make sure she spends the night there," he turned away from Delvin and started walking away, he glanced back over his shoulder as he went and added a warning, "If she's not there by the third day, it really will rain death and darkness on you all." Delvin started swearing up a storm as he left.

Niven made his way back through the Cistern and out the way he came, changing back into his everyday attire before leaving the mausoleum. He wandered back towards the Bee and Barb and went inside. He spotted a blonde Nord woman dressed in a simple brown tunic and black trousers sitting alone at a table in the corner and took the seat across from her. She was just finishing sealing an envelope when she looked up at him and asked, "So, you gave them the bad news?"

"I did."

"And how did they take it?"

"Not well."

"Naturally," she laughed but then she scowled a little and sighed almost coyly, "Haven't had a Blood Thief cross our paths for a long time. This will be interesting."

"What are you thinking?" He asked her.

A wicked smile curled at her lips as she stared down at the envelope in her hands, "I'm thinking we'll have a little _fun_ with her."

A young woman dressed in her usual Guild armor and a peculiar cloak made a mad dash through a thicket of sticker bushes. She covered her head with the sheet that was flapping around her neck. She was hungry, tired, sweaty and miserable. She also couldn't believe that it was nearly night and the damn ranger and his mangy mutt _still_ hadn't given up the fucking chase.

She was starting to question whether or not the stupid bonus Delvin promised her was worth this shit. Then she heard the barking of the russet wolf and ducked down under the cover of the bushes and peered through a small opening between the leaves. She watched as the ranger came stomping along, breathless, drenched in sweat, with his beard and hair full of twigs and sticker burrs. Sapphire had dove through just about every pointy bush and run across every kind of rocky terrain just trying to evade the man, but he was _beyond_ persistent! His damn wolf looked like he was just having fun getting a chance to run around as much as he could and didn't even look tired.

The ranger looked around and she was hoping that it was getting difficult for him to spot her in the dark. If she could just get some damn distance between them and track Jill's scent all over the place and way away from Riften for a few days then she'd get that sweet bonus.

He looked down at his wolf and said, "Find her."

The wolf barked and started sniffing around. _Fuuuck_ , she groaned inwardly. It was nearly impossible to avoid that mangy mongrel and his keen sense of smell. She half-considered ditching the sheet-cape she was wearing but knew that he'd just figure out the ruse a lot faster if she did. She watched as the wolf started honing in on her and the ranger started to walk in the opposite direction. He disappeared from her view and so did the wolf. She couldn't see shit through the thick shrubbery and the dimming skies didn't help either. 

Her heart was pounding as she readied herself to run again, thinking she'd make a break for it back the way she came and find another route up one of the mountains. In that moment the wolf leapt into the sticker bush and barked loudly at her scaring the shit out of her. She jumped right out of the bush and made to run again when she felt the ranger grab her hard around the waist from behind, he yanked her in close and said, "Ladyship, please! Just fucking listen to me for one minute - " he spun her around in his arms and Sapphire stared up wide-eyed at his stunned face, which slowly started reddening in anger as his brows lowered harshly over his eyes.

"L-Look!" She stammered, "Just leave Jill alone okay!? She doesn't want anything to do with you anymore! She-She's moved on alright!?"

He furrowed his brows at her and snarled, "Who the _fuck_ is Jill?" Then his face fell with dawning realization as he breathed, "That's her alias, isn't it? Jillian of Heart Frost," he gave a wry laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, "Of fucking course, she would." 

Sapphire was the one looking stunned now, narrowing her eyes at him, "Wait... that's not her real name?"

Bishop released his grip on her and said, "No, it's not her real name." He stepped back and leaned against a tree, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the space between his eyes and sighed deeply.

Sapphire took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart as the wolf sniffed at her feet. She wasn't sure what to do at that point. She looked around and considered making a run for it before the ranger decided to do _whatever_ he was gonna do to her...

But then he looked over at her and calmly said, "Hey. I'm sure that piece of shit Delvin put you up to this. Hope he's paying you good at least."

She pressed her lips together as she put a hand on her dagger.

He noticed and scoffed at her, "Look, I'm not interested in fighting you. Mind if I ask you something though?"

Her mouth twitched and she said, "Yeah, sure. Fine."

"Is she happy?"

Sapphire furrowed her brows, "Jill?"

"Yeah."

"Uh..." she didn't know what to say. He was definitely not the kind of guy she expected him to be. The way Delvin talked about him made it sound like he was some sort of crazy ex-boyfriend. Was he really just checking up on Jill? Sapphire couldn't figure out his angle. "Well I mean, she is for the most part I guess. Not around a lot for me to really know. She's usually tired most of the time when I see her."

"I bet," he said knowingly. He pulled his pack off his back and yanked an old envelope out and approached her. She tensed up, but he kept a good foot away from her and held the envelope out, "Could you do me a favor and give this to her?"

Sapphire stared at him and then looked down at the envelope in his hand. He waved it a bit and said, "That's all I ask. Just give this to her and you won't see my face around Riften anymore. Don't let Delvin know about it though. Hand deliver it straight to her for me."

Sapphire reached out and took it. He looked hard at her and said, "I'm not usually one to trust thieves, but I'm trusting you on this."

"You don't even know me," she said.

"Sure I do," he said as he turned down the path leading towards Ivarstead, "You looked after Elise about eight years ago, remember?"

She stared at him for a minute and her eyes widened, "You... you're Jules' brother."

He neither confirmed or denied her suspicions. He simply moved along the path and whistled for his wolf to follow, "Come on Karnwyr. I need a drink after today."

Sapphire watched him disappear off in the distance before turning to head back to Riften. She had a thousand questions weighing on her mind as she stared at the envelope in her hand. She was feeling very tempted to open it.

There was a ringing sound in her ears. When Rona opened her eyes everything was a blur. Everything except for the strange letters traveling across her vision. What language was this? Cyrodiilic? Aldmeris? Dovahzul? No. It was something different. The words started to etch themselves into her mind and it was _so_ painful. She screamed in agony as they seared into her skull but she couldn't even hear herself over the ringing in her ears.

Flashes of a strange and ethereal landscape entered her mind's eye then. A wondrous and dark place, deep underground where the plants grew taller than Skyrim's tallest watchtowers and castles. It was beautiful and terrifying as every living thing there glowed eerily within the pitch blackness. Then she felt herself moving, her plane of view whisking by quickly as the words carved away at her skull and burrowed in her brain. She was inside a Dwemer Ruin in that deep dark place, but it was no ruin. It was new and still being built. She was moving further and faster upward now. She watched as the Dwemer were hard at work constructing that place. They were as real as her and almost robotic in their focus as they worked tirelessly to build. Again the plane shifted, moving deeper into the depths of that horrible place until she was there, standing right in front of it.

The Elder Scroll was only an arm's reach away. She reached out to touch it when a strange mechanism swallowed it up and shot upward, far out of her reach. She turned back to the Dwemer and begged and pleaded that they give it to her, but they said nothing, they didn't even look at her, they merely went about setting up the locks and traps in that place, sealing it off from anyone who might come looking.

And then she felt herself whisking away quickly, so far away from that place before she slammed back into reality. Her eyes snapped open and she was lying flat on her back on the cold ground, dripping with sweat and looking into Vex's petrified face. The minute their eyes met though Vex breathed with relief, pressing a hand to her chest and snapped, "Don't fucking do that to me!" 

Rona sputtered, "What... what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Rona weakly shook her head. She could hardly sort through her cluttered thoughts in that moment.

"The second you put that cube back you just seized up and started screaming bloody murder. Next thing I know you're face down on the floor, barely moving and _fuck!_ You can't do that shit to me! I thought you were dead!" She choked up a bit, quickly rubbing a tear out of her eye.

Rona carefully pushed herself up off the ground but still feeling very weak she made herself dizzy and Vex caught her as she almost tipped over again. "Just rest for a minute!" Vex commanded. Rona nodded and sat cross-legged, taking long slow breaths while she rubbed her temples. Her head was throbbing and the images of what she'd seen were still fresh in her mind.

The Scroll was indeed somewhere deep in a Dwemer Ruin, but which one was still the question. It was in that dark strange place. But what was that place? She tried to think of where it was, she knew the answer was somewhere in that insane jumble that had just been fed to her brain, but she couldn't piece it together.

Vex was looking around warily and said, "We have to get out of this place. I can't stay here a minute longer," then she looked at Rona and asked, "Are you gonna be alright? Can you walk?"

"I should be fine," she said as she cast a grand healing over herself and slipped a vial of stamina potion from her armor. She downed the whole thing and it helped bring back some of her energy. She stood up, still a little wobbly, but shook it off.

Vex was still watching her with a deep look of concern. Rona laughed and said, "I'm okay, _really_. Let's just get out of here."

"Alright, fine, but are we stuck going all the way back through this hell hole?"

Rona pointed up the stairs beyond the Lexicon and said, "There's probably an exit there. The Dwemer constructed exits in their buildings so they wouldn't set off all their own traps heading back."

"Makes sense," Vex said as she followed Rona up the stairs. They stood inside a small circular room and Rona knelt down and grasped a lever there, she looked up at Vex and said, "Might want to hold onto the railing. We'll be going up really fast."

Vex quickly grabbed the nearby railing and Rona yanked on the lever. The doors to the room shut immediately and the gears could be heard rattling and whirring as the mechanisms that ran it sprang to life. Rona quickly gripped the railing herself as they were suddenly launched upward within the chute. In seconds they came to an abrupt stop and a second door on the opposite side of them opened, revealing the surface outside bathed in moonlight.

They both stepped out and took a deep breath of the cool night air, both feeling relieved to be back outside. That is until they heard the sound of several low roars. Rona hissed at Vex, "Get back inside the chamber!"

They both scrambled back in and tucked behind the metal frame, listening and waiting. Rona hoped with all her heart that the dragons wouldn't sense her presence. She really wasn't up to facing any of them with her head still throbbing and her body feeling weak. Again they heard the roars, a little closer now. Rona carefully leaned around the metal frame and peered out through the opening. She could barely make out the figures of what looked like three dragons flying around the area. They were so small though, maybe twice the size of a horse, but significantly tinier than any dragon she'd seen before. She started to wonder if they were just babies, but then remembered that dragons were sexless... they didn't breed.

She watched as the three of them... _played?_ It definitely wasn't fighting as they flew in circles around each other, playfully nipping at one another before swooping up and down together in a perfect 'V' formation. She was stunned. Dragons were territorial by nature, but to see these three little things getting along... she didn't know what to think of it.

The three creatures took off over the mountains beyond then and after another minute or so, when the coast seemed to be clear of dragons, she motioned for Vex to follow her. Rona went down the spiraling path and walked up to the cave entrance leading into the ruin.

Vex whispered, "What the hell? Did you forget something? Please tell me you're not going back in there."

"No, I just need to leave something behind," Rona said as she pulled Mehrunes' Razor from its sheath. She set to carving the Akaviri symbol for Dragonborn into the wall and below that she scratched in the words, _No scroll_.

Vex was tapping her foot impatiently and constantly looking over her shoulder. When Rona was satisfied with her carving the two of them left. They booked it out of the area, at Vex's insistence, who was worried that the dragons might come back. After an hour's walk, they made it back to Riften in one piece, both exhausted from their adventure in the ruins.

They returned to the Cistern very late and Vex yawned, "Tell Delvin I'll catch up with him tomorrow. I need to go pass the fuck out after all that insanity."

"Hey Vex," Rona called to her. Vex turned back and she said, "Thanks for everything."

Vex crossed her arms and said, "Pft, what are you thanking me for? I didn't even get a chance to teach you anything what with all the shit that went on down there."

"It's been a long time since I traveled with anyone else and it was just nice having someone watch my back for once."

Vex waved a hand at her and scoffed, "Oh please, you think I was watching _your_ back? Hell no! I was looking for an escape every chance I got. Pft..." She quickly walked away and Rona smirked at her. She knew Vex would never admit that she was ever worried or even cared about Rona as a friend. She was okay with that though. She preferred to keep any and all friends an arm's distance away from her when she could, all things considered.

She wandered around heading towards the Flagon, wondering if Delvin was still up. She was nearly at the entrance when she bumped right into someone. They both backed up and she shouted, "Oh! Sorry!"

Brynjolf raised his brows and said, "Ah, just you lass. Good to see you again."

"Oh! Brynjolf," she awkwardly scratched the back of her head, "Good to see you too."

She rarely if ever spoke with Brynjolf. The people she always worked closest with were Delvin and Vex. Since Brynjolf was one of the top Thieves and Mercer's right-hand man she never had a reason to speak with him and she always felt a bit awkward around the man, like he was her boss or something.

Rona had only directly met with him and Mercer Frey a few times before and that was only because she screwed up some very important jobs early on in her time there and Frey wanted to give her a firm talking to. It was a strange relationship she had with the Guild. It was like a day job she hated but was afraid to be fired from too.

Instead of moving on like she expected him too though, Brynjolf was just standing there staring at her, his brows knit tightly together and he had a look of almost pained sorrow on his face. She frowned a little and asked, "Um... is everything alright Brynjolf?"

This seemed to snap him out of it and he put a fist to his mouth, clearing his throat and said, "Yeah - yes, everything's fine. Just... got a lot on my mind right now." He put a hand on her shoulder and said meaningfully, "Take care of yourself, alright lass?"

Then he stepped around her, heading back into the Cistern and she just stared off at him. _Well, that was weird_ , she thought. But she shrugged it off and headed into the Flagon. She found Delvin seated in his usual spot and surprisingly he wasn't drinking a tankard of his usual ale. Instead, he had a bottle of hard whiskey on the table and the bottle she noticed was already two-thirds of the way empty. 

She went around and sat down on the other chair. Delvin looked right at her and she noticed immediately that his eyes were very red from his heavy drinking that evening. He swallowed hard and set his glass aside. "Good to see you in one piece Jill. You finally find what you were lookin' for?"

She averted her eyes and shook her head a little.

He sighed and said, "Shit... sorry to hear it. So, I'm glad you're here," she looked back up at him as he grabbed a single contract from the top of one of his paper piles, "Got a contract for yah."

"Delvin," she trailed off, looking concerned for him, "Are you okay? I... I saw Bishop this morning and Vex told me everything that happened."

"Is'fine," he slurred adamantly, "He didn't catch yah, did he? So I did my job like promised."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Well go on then," he waved the piece of paper at her, "Take a look."

Rona took it and opened it up, scanning it over. It was a forgery job way out in Morthal. She looked back up at him. He smiled wearily at her and said, "See? Got yah a job out in Morthal. Make sure you take care of that one first though. Got set times and everything, then you can run off and go plunge into your crazy ruin," he picked up his glass and downed the rest of his whiskey. She noticed that he was actively avoiding eye contact with her.

"Delvin, is everything alright? I just bumped into Brynjolf and he was acting weird too..."

He met her sharp gaze again and said, "Got a lot coming up soon. Maven's riding our asses hard about this Goldenglow job so, you know," he poured another shot into his glass, "we're jus' feelin' a bit stressed over it is all," he quickly downed that one and she wondered why he didn't just chug the rest of the bottle at that point.

He sighed again and said, "Get a good night's sleep tonight and head out in the morning. You'll want to take a carriage and you make damn sure that follow the directions on there exactly. No more fuck ups, got it?"

"Got it," she said as she stood up. She left then, heading back to the Cistern to find a bed to fall into.

Delvin heard the door click in the back room and he released a heavy sigh again. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and nearly dropped the bottle as his right hand shook. He felt the mark on his arm creeping up, gripping him tighter. He grit his teeth and carefully set the bottle down, rubbing his arm. He leaned forward, pressing a hand to his forehead and whispered, "Gods... I hope you can forgive me, Rona..." 

As Rona stepped back into the Cistern she nearly bumped into another person but caught herself that time. Sapphire said, "Oh shit, perfect - just who I was looking for."

Rona looked her over, noticing how disheveled she appeared with plenty of sticker burrs and even a few stray leaves caught in her hair. She knit her brows together, picking some of the leaves out and said, "Oh Sapphire, your hair..."

"It's fine," Sapphire waved her off with a laugh, "So uh... _Jiiill_ ," she cocked an eyebrow and gave her a smarmy smirk.

" _Yeeaahh?_ " Rona couldn't understand why everyone was being so weird towards her that evening.

Sapphire held out an envelope and said, "He caught me. But wanted me to give you this."

Rona's heart leapt in her chest. She took the envelope and immediately noticed it had been opened. She scowled at Sapphire who just chuckled and said, "You know, he chased me. All. Day. _Long_. And it seems like he misses you a lot. I really wouldn't let that one get away."

Sapphire gave her a parting smirk and swept past her, heading for the Flagon. Rona took a deep breath and looked down at the letter in her hands. She glanced around, glad to see almost everyone there was fast asleep or gone for the evening, running their jobs. She hurried over to her bed and sat down on it.

Her pulse was running so fast that her hands shook a little. She pulled the parchment out and unfolded it, reading it over.

 _Rona,_

 _I'm not good with these things and I don't even know where to start. I just want to talk. Meet me at the place we first met. I'll be waiting for you between the thirteenth and nineteenth of Evening Star._

 _Bishop_


	7. Chapter 7 Into The Void

**Chapter 7**

 **Into The Void**

Rona slept restlessly through the night. Her dreams fell between a mix of that strange dark place with the glowing fauna and Bishop hopelessly chasing after her before he was consumed by Alduin.

She woke up feeling worse than she had the day before, especially with that short little letter from him weighing on her mind. He'd be at the Sleeping Giant for an entire week. She was debating with herself on whether or not to go.

She had a contract in Morthal and she absolutely had to get there in two days. The third day was when it was due to be completed. She'd really wanted to try her luck in Mzinchaleft, but the dive inside could take days and she'd miss her chance to see him.

She stepped out of the mausoleum mindlessly kicking the switch in the wall to close the entryway as she went. Her internal debate raged back and forth with all the pros and cons of seeing him. The pros... well it would be amazing to see him, to hold him in her arms again, to kiss and touch him, to just _be_ with him. She desperately missed him. The cons though? If she saw him again she felt like she'd never be able to let him go and that would put his life in danger. She couldn't have that. Not when she was so damn close to finding the scroll. If she could just piece together the insane Dwemer puzzle that had been injected into her mind, then she could move on to the next part of her journey and... fight Alduin.

She shook her head trying not to think of that. She had to focus on her first task. She had to find that scroll and finish her training before she could do anything else.

Rona approached a carriage in front of the stables when a young man breathlessly caught up to her and shouted, "Ah wait!" He stopped in front of her, throwing his hands to his knees and caught his breath and asked, "Are you Jill?"

"Yes," she replied warily.

"Oh thank the gods. I've been looking all over Riften for you!" He pulled a letter out of his bag and handed it to her, "Got a delivery for you, your hands _only_."

She took the envelope, wondering if Bishop left her another letter and asked, "Who is it from?"

"Dunno," he said, "Tall creepy fella, dressed in a black cloak. Paid me a pretty sum to get that in your hands though."

Rona felt a shiver crawl up her spine and got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. The courier took his leave and she paid the carriage driver to take her to Morthal. She took a seat in the back of the wagon and just stared at the envelope for a minute while the carriage moved steadily along the path.

She pressed her lips together and muttered, "Just fucking open it already..." She tore it open and pulled a note out. The second she unfolded it she dropped it like it was on fire and yelped so loud that the carriage driver looked back, asking, "Everything alright miss? Should I pull over?"

"Everything's fine," she forced herself to say while she stared at the black hand on the little note with the words, _We Know_ , neatly scrawled underneath it. She felt sick to her stomach and her paranoia came back in full force from the day before. She looked all around her, searching for someone, _anyone_ who might be following her. She couldn't take any chances and asked quickly, "Actually, could you stop for a minute? I'm not feeling so well."

The carriage driver pulled over and she hopped out and said, "I'll be right back..."

He gave her a concerned look but said, "Sure, take your time miss."

Rona ran off into the trees and pressed her back to one. She needed to get out of there faster than a carriage could take her so she looked to the skies and shouted, "OD AH VIING!" She anxiously waited, knowing the driver probably heard her shout. After a good fifteen minutes when Odahviing didn't make an appearance she relented and turned to head back towards the carriage. Thankfully the driver hadn't been spooked off by her shout, although he did stare hard at her and she gave him a sheepish glance before hopping back into the wagon. She snatched the note from the floor of the carriage and burned it up with a flames spell.

She was grateful that the driver didn't ask any questions and merely resumed their trip along the cobblestone road. Odahviing had said he might not be able to come to her for a few days and it had only been four days since he left to meet with the other dragons. She couldn't help but feel worried for him hoping with all her heart that he was alright.

Her trip to Morthal took two days of travel, stopping first in Windhelm to sleep for the night. She took a lot of precautions at the inn, setting up runes at the floor of the door in her room and even pushing a chair up under the door handle. If anyone tried to come in, she'd immediately be woken up for it. Fortunately, no one came calling in the middle of the night, although she nearly set off the runes herself when she made to rush off to the bathroom that morning. She got dressed and carefully removed the traps she'd set up before she met with the carriage driver again and they set off towards Morthal.

She wasn't exactly thrilled to be returning there so soon, especially since her recent attempted break-in of one of the local's homes was still fresh in everyone's minds. She doubted she'd get much of a warm welcome, but resolved to keep to herself and hope the folks there would do the same. Upon arriving she quickly made her way up to the local inn and stepped inside. It was the first time she was ever grateful that the only patrons there were the town beggar and the Orc. Although Lurbuk was singing an ear bleeding rendition of the _Age of Aggression_ that made her groan inwardly.

"Welcome to the Moorside!" Jonna, the kindly Redguard proprietor called. The moment she saw Rona's face though she frowned, "Jillian. Not here to start trouble again I hope."

Rona chuckled awkwardly as she pulled her hood down and ran a hand through her long hair, trying to untangle it, "No, Jonna, I promise I learned my lesson last time."

Jonna smirked at her and wiped at the bar with a rag and said, "Alright, well come on in then. Pull up a seat. What can I get for you?"

Rona walked over, carefully stepping around Urfen who was fast asleep on the floor and she sat down at the bar and said, "I'll take whatever's hot and just a glass of water."

"Sure thing," Jonna said as she stepped away from the counter to head down into the cellar.

"I need a room too!" Rona called after her.

"You can take your pick between the two, hun!" Jonna's voice echoed back up the stairs.

In a minute the innkeeper returned with a piping hot bowl of horker stew and a thick cut of bread. She pushed the food in front of Rona and poured her a tall glass of water, then leaned on the counter and said, "Kellen told me that you didn't spend much time in jail even after what you tried to pull last time you were here."

Rona blew on a steaming spoonful of stew and said, "Yeah... Jarl Ravencrone was kind enough to pardon me." She took a bite and Jonna continued to admonish her, "Typical. Thanes get all the leeway."

Rona laughed and said through a mouthful, "Hey! I earned that title. I didn't see anyone else diving into that cave to take down those vampires."

Jonna scoffed, pressing her elbow to the counter and leaned her head into her hand, "Psh... Kellen would have gone with yah, but you just had to play the hero and send everyone home."

Rona swallowed another bite and smirked, "That's because they were all shaking in their boots the minute we arrived," Jonna frowned at her and Rona added quickly, " _Except_ Kellen. But I was only thinking of you when I sent him back you know. Didn't want to risk it."

Jonna grinned at her and said, "Well I appreciate that. I don't know where I'd be without that idiot husband of mine if he ever got hurt." They were quiet for a moment while Rona slurped up her food before Jonna, being as nosy as ever, asked, "So what was it that you needed so bad from Jorgen and Lami?"

Rona looked her right in the eyes and said, "A fancy enchanted axe."

Jonna laughed at her, smacking the counter and said, "Damn it, woman! You pulling my leg?"

"Maybe," she grinned. Looking to change the subject, however, she glanced back at the beggar and said, "Can't believe you're letting Urfen just snooze on your floor like that."

Jonna shrugged, "Might as well. No business for it to make a difference. Besides, it's been freezing out."

Rona scoffed, "It's _always_ freezing out."

"Well, it's the dead of winter now, so it's been colder than usual lately. He's been getting himself tossed in jail just to get a night of warmth and I felt bad for the poor sap so I offered him the inn floor."

"That's kind of you," Rona said sincerely. Then she pulled out her coin purse and spilled some gold onto the counter, "Do me a favor and feed him up right, will you? On me. And you know what might as well give him the other room for the night." 

Jonna smiled at her and said, "Sure thing."

Rona finished off her food and decided on the room nearest to the front door of the inn. She felt safer knowing her escape was that much closer to her if she needed it. She retired early for the evening, setting up some runes at the foot of the door and pushed a chair up under the door handle then sat back on the bed and reviewed her contract. She'd finish the job as quick as she could and then she'd try for Odahviing again.

She decided, if he came she would fly to Riverwood and meet with Bishop. That way anyone following her would lose track. It was safer that way. But if he didn't come... she sighed, dropping her head back against the pillow. She really hoped Odahviing would come.

She drifted off into another fitful sleep, her dreams were once again filled with images of the Dwemer Ruins and the Elder Scroll. She watched as Dwemer symbols pieced themselves together in front of her. Symbol by symbol they strung along, making out words and sentences. It was like her mind was trying desperately to make sense of it all, to crack the code. She felt like she nearly had it. It was right in front of her and she squinted hard, trying to read one word, in particular, that was just floating there when she heard a loud knock. She woke up, slowly opening her eyes as the symbols faded from her mind. She peered through the dark room, looking for the source of the sound. Had someone knocked on her door?

She waited a moment but when no more sound came she closed her eyes again and tried to fall back asleep, to go back to the words that were just in front of her. She needed to read them, it was too important.

Then another loud knock came, only this time it was right against the wall over her head. Her eyes snapped open and her heart pound in her chest as she looked up into the face of a very tall Altmer staring back at her with his sharp, dark blue eyes.

It was the same elf from that night in Windhelm. The one who'd caught her talking to the Aretino boy. And he looked so much more terrifying in the dark like that, looming over her. Her entire body tensed up and she tried to move, to scream but she couldn't. It didn't feel right though. It wasn't because of fear... there was some other reason she couldn't move.

He spoke then keeping his deep voice as quiet as possible, "It's easier when you're paralyzed."

A paralyze spell faded from his hand and was replaced with a flames spell. He lit the candle on the bedside table casting the tiny room in a dim light. He held his right arm out and pulled his sleeve up revealing the Black Hand gripping his lean forearm. It was just like Mrs. Gilseene's mark. It looked like some kind of tattoo, but she watched in horror as it actually moved a little, dragging itself upward and even pulling his skin taut as it crawled along.

He pulled a silver dagger out and held it up over his wrist, where the mark seemed to originate and said, "My best advice to you is that you don't run or fight them. Just let them take you. The sooner you let it happen, the sooner it will be over." Then he slowly slashed his wrist open, going across it horizontally. He held his arm out allowing his inky black blood to pool onto the floor before he cast a healing spell over his wound, sealing it shut again.

Rona watched in horror as the blood on the floor slowly crawled up the walls. It spread outward, filling the corners of the room like shadows before splintering off into the shapes of dozens of black hands. She tried to scream and she tried to squirm as the hands drew ever closer to her, but it was no use. She could not move. She stared in mind-numbing terror as the room was enveloped in darkness. The only light came from the candle. Then the Altmer leaned over it, pulled his mask down and still staring right at her, blew the candle out.

Darkness consumed her then and she felt the hands crawling all over her body, gripping at her. It was a horrible feeling, one that brought her back to a time and place when she was taken by an awful man that touched her and hurt her. She shut her eyes tightly, willing it to stop and when it did finally stop she opened them again and found herself in the middle of a dark forest with only a full moon in the sky illuminating the trees and grassy landscape.

(The Song is _Beyond Me_ remastered version by After Forever)

She looked around her, baffled as to how she got there and then she realized something as a cold gust of wind cut through her flesh. She was naked. Instinctively she covered herself, feeling extremely vulnerable, but in that moment, a blood-curdling scream pierced through the air, making her forget her nudity altogether. She looked back into the depths of the forest where the darkness was greatest. The moonlight would not touch there. It was like a vast empty void.

Her heart was fluttering hard against her ribcage and she stood up, looking around for the source of the scream. She didn't see anyone though. She was completely alone and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Then she heard her own voice echoing through the trees, but it was not coming from her...

 _"I know I'm alone, but somebody's watching me  
Follows me everywhere I go  
A cold flow surprised me again, I shiver  
The presence of something, I can hear it's breathing"_

Rona started walking away from the darkness, trying to stay in the light of the moon. She was shaking with fear and felt so lost. She couldn't understand where she was or why her music was pouring from her without her willing it to. As she carried on something moved out of the corner of her eye. She snapped her head to the right and saw someone else walking along through the forest. It was a beautiful young woman, who was nearly her height. She had long flowing, curling stark-white hair and freckled, tan skin. She too was as naked as Rona and seemed just as lost.

Rona tried to call out to the woman but no sound came from her mouth. Then she saw another person and another. Soon she saw hundreds of nude and terrified looking people, with only the moon illuminating their forms. People of all different races even; Orcs, Dunmer, Altmer, Bosmer, Argonians, Nords and so on. They all continued their strange procession forward, aiming away from the void behind them. And then the piercing scream echoed through the forest again and everyone stopped to look back.

She couldn't help herself and also turned around to look. What she saw brought her more dread than anything in her life. Solid black, hulking creatures were wandering through the trees searching for them. They were almost humanoid, with two arms and two legs, yet their top halves were huge and hunched over. They lacked eyes and noses, yet had enormous mouths which curled up around their heads and hundreds of bright jagged teeth lining their dark gums. Their hands and feet had long, sharp claws that curled outward and were as solid black as the rest of them.

Then they started speaking, their guttural voices ripping through the night.

 _"Running for something, nothing, in the black of the night  
Creeps around you, the invisible force that makes you crazy  
I can't remember how it feels to be warm, to be alone...  
Without that fear deep inside me."_

Rona's chest was heaving as panic gripped her and terror overwhelmed her. Then a creature found one of them. An Argonian howled as a beast burrowed its claws into his back and mercilessly dragged him back towards the void in the trees.

 _"Icons of death float on beyond me  
Whispering my name and breathing my fear."_

People started screaming and running in all directions as the creatures got on all fours and pelted off the ground like werewolves, burying their teeth and claws into the bodies of each person they caught before dragging them back towards the darkest part of the forest. Then someone grabbed Rona's hand and pulled her forward. She started running and looked on at the person trying to save her. It was the woman with the long white hair. She looked like she was yelling something, but Rona couldn't hear over the blood-curdling shrieks and the guttural cries from the beasts.

And then it happened. One of the creatures pounced on her and pinned her to the ground on her back. She stared up at it, horrified as it opened its jagged maw wide and started screaming savagely at her. She also started screaming, but only because it buried its claws into her chest and ripped her wide open. The pain was excruciating. She wanted to pass out, she wanted to die, but she wouldn't die. It wouldn't let her die.

She felt the hands again, crawling all over her and inside her. Her body was consumed by the darkness. Then suddenly, just as quickly as it started, the creature stopped its merciless assault on her and slowly turned away, returning to the Void.

Rona stared up at the moon, listening to her own voice singing, while she bled out. She had to be bleeding out. Her body was torn to pieces. Then the young woman stood over her and knelt down. She caressed a tear from Rona's cheek, leaned forward, kissed the crown of her head and whispered, "Welcome back Listener."

 _"Leave me alone, wherever you came from  
Hearing so much voices, no one's talking._

 _Leave me alone, wherever you came from  
Hearing so much voices, no one's talking._

 _Leave me alone."_

Rona slowly opened her eyes and took a shallow breath. The pain in her chest was still there. She carefully pressed a hand to her sternum, expecting it to be ripped open but was surprised to find it intact. She looked down at herself as her eyes continued to adjust through the haze. She was wearing her armor again and she heard people talking.

"Remarkable," a woman's voice muttered, "I've never seen anyone fight it for so long before."

"She's resilient," the soothing, deep voice of a man came next.

"Do you think she'll pass our next test?"

"Hard to say."

Rona blinked a few times and sat up, looking forward at two people dressed in black and red leather armor. The smaller one, she guessed was the woman, was seated nonchalantly on top of a bookshelf with one of her legs carelessly dangling off of it, while her much taller cohort, Rona guessed was the Altmer, leaned with his back to the wall and had his arms crossed. Both had their heads and faces covered up, save for their eyes.

She immediately put a hand to the dagger on her hip when the woman waved a finger and warned her, "Ah-ah-ah! Be careful what you do now, _Jillian._ " The woman drawled her alias like she had a leg up on her somehow, but it only made Rona more confused. If they knew she was the Listener then they would know she was the Dragonborn and would have her real name. So why were they choosing to use her alias if they knew that? Unless... somehow... they didn't.

Rona swallowed hard and steadied her breathing as her eyes darted around, searching for an escape. She was inside a dirty, windowless shack with a few pieces of decayed furniture. She noticed the only door in the room was heavily locked. But what really stood out about the place was the fact that there were blood spatters and stains on nearly every surface including the walls. It smelled like death and was on par with the depravity of Thorn's torture chamber considering the number of bugs steadily marching across the wood-paneled floor and vermin festering in the corners.

She looked back to the two assassins and breathed out almost a whisper, "What do you want with me?" Her fear was choking her throat closed. She knew she could shout her way out if she had to, but considering they didn't know who she really was, in that moment, she decided to hold her tongue.

"Isn't it obvious?" The woman asked. Rona slowly shook her head. She knew they'd taken her because she'd met with the boy in Windhelm, but she didn't want to feed them any more information than they already had on her. The woman laughed lightly and said, "Grelod the Kind was, by all rights a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill...that you stole. A kill that you must repay."

Rona took a sharp breath and asked, "How?"

The woman sounded like she was smiling under her mask when she said, "By serving the Dread Father of course. You belong to us now."

"No," Rona replied defiantly, mustering up her courage.

" _Oh yes_ ," the woman simpered, "You fought the Dread Hounds much longer than I expected, but the deed has been done. You are one of the Brotherhood now. You feel it don't you? The tightening grip on your right arm?"

Rona took her hand from her dagger and held it up in front of herself. She'd been so focused on her chest pain and overwhelmed by everything else that had happened to her that she hadn't noticed the intense ghostly grip on her forearm. She hooked her fingers under her sleeve and yanked it down revealing an enormous black mark protruding from her wrist, like a huge bruise. She panicked and tugged on her sleeve more, drawing it up her arm until it revealed the entire mark. She stared wide-eyed at the solid black hand gripping her entire forearm and yelped when it moved, pulling itself upward, drawing her skin taut in the process.

She knit her brows together and roared at them, "GET IT OFF!"

The woman laughed and said, "Impossible! Once you've been marked by Sithis there is no removing it."

Rona shook her head fiercely and shouted, "I can't be one of you! I'm not a murderer!"

The Altmer spoke up this time. "You say that, yet your companions in the Thieves Guild were quick to note your capacity to kill."

Rona gaped at him incredulously, " _You spoke with my Guildmates? They told you about me?_ "

The woman laughed and said, "Of course they did. The Brotherhood and the Guild have had this arrangement for centuries now. They keep to stealing and we commit murder. Under no circumstances do we step into each other's territories. We don't tolerate Coin Killers and they don't put up with Blood Thieves. And that my dear, is exactly what _you_ are. A Blood Thief. So as per our age-old agreement, you were to be turned over to us to do whatever we liked with."

Rona knit her brows together. They'd betrayed her? The Guild just _gave_ her to them? She knew she hadn't been doing a very good job at earning her keep but she never expected them to just throw her to the wolves like that. Her heart sank when she realized how strange everyone had been acting towards her. Brynjolf had actually, really looked at her for the first time since she'd been there, sadder than ever and Delvin was drinking himself stupid before he handed her the contract… the contract that sent her there, to Morthal.

" _Delvin,"_ she murmured, holding back an angry sob, _"how could you_?" She snapped her furious gaze back to the two of them, tears stinging her eyes as she demanded, "So why didn't you just kill me? You plan to toy with me first?"

"You catch on fast," the woman said, "It's something of a tradition in the Brotherhood. We like to give the Blood Thief a chance to prove themselves. If they choose to serve Sithis and our organization, they will continue to live. But if they don't... well," she chuckled, "Sithis will claim their soul in due time. So either way, you will repay your debt to us, whether it's with your own life or another's is the only question which demands to be answered now."

Rona felt a tightening in her arm again and looked back down at the Black Hand that was slowly making its way up towards her shoulder.

The Altmer pushed off the wall and put his hands to his hips. "Since you're newly inducted the mark moves much more swiftly. The more you start to kill and the sooner you do it the more the mark will retreat before it overwhelms and takes you."

"So... I have to _murder..._ to live?"

"Precisely," the woman said. Then she waved an arm out and added, "Have a look. We've already collected several participants for our little game."

Rona turned around and was horrified to see three people on their knees, bound with their arms behind their backs and their heads wrapped in sacks. They were all very much alive and each squirmed against their bonds, except for the only Khajiit in the room, who appeared to have resigned to his fate.

"This is the moment of truth for you," the woman went on explaining, "Prove yourself as a cold-hearted killer and continue to live or you can try and run away. It won't be long before the Black Hand takes you though."

This went completely against her being. Against everything she'd ever stood for. Rona may have taken innocent lives twice before but she refused to do it again. She couldn't let them do this to these people. She stood up then, pushing herself off the blood-stained floor, crushing several ants under her gloved palms and brushed her hands off on the sides of her leathers. She turned around and looked hard at the two assassins before her as she drew her dagger from its sheath.

"Looks like she still has some defiance left in her," the woman said to her cohort. "Go on then girl, try to kill us and see what happens."

The Altmer brazenly stepped forward, moving and towering right over her. Rona was forced to crane her neck to look up at him. He was taller than Casavir, but much thinner and more lithe physically.

"Go ahead," he said, "Take my life if you can."

Rona gripped her dagger tighter in her hand, trying to steady her shaking. Why was she shaking? She was the damned Dragonborn. She didn't have to be afraid of these two. And yet there was something about them, but especially about _him_ that absolutely terrified her. He seemed so confident that she wouldn't do it, that she wouldn't kill him.

She felt her anger mounting. He was the one who'd done it to her. Chased her down and sent her to that awful place with those _things_. She hated him. She raised her blade and made to lash out at him when she felt a sharp, gripping pain in her right arm. She faltered and clutched her arm as she gasped with the spasm rippling through it. She looked at the mark again as it squeezed the life out of her arm, boring right into her muscle.

The woman sat up straight, wrapping her arms around her knee as she intoned snidely, "The fifth tenet of the Brotherhood declares that we may never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. For to do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis. Even attempting to take one of our lives has set your mark traveling faster than ever now. What do you think Niven? I'd say another day or so and it might actually claim her soul."

He cast his soft blue eyes over the Black Hand which had started reaching for her neck. "Most likely," he agreed. Rona thought he sounded almost... disappointed.

"It's time," the woman said, "You need to make your choice now," she hopped off the bookshelf and moved to stand by her cohort, crossing her arms, "One of these people has a contract out on them. You must choose one and kill them... and if you're lucky you'll choose correctly and the mark will retreat and you will get to live another day."

Rona looked back at the three captives. One of them had a contract? Only one?

"What happens if I choose wrong?"

(The Music is _Lucifer's Hymn You_ then _Goetia_ by Peter Gundry)

"Then you'll just have to try again until you get it right. Or you could do the easy thing." Rona looked questioningly at her and the woman finally answered, "You could just kill all three of them. Quick and painless," she ran a thumb across her throat in a slitting motion.

Rona scowled at her then turned to look over the three captives again. She had no choice. Either let them live and die with her mark, forcing the world to be consumed without her, or...

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hating herself for what she was about to do. She walked over to the first of the three people, a Nord man, and asked tentatively, "Why... why would someone put a hit out on you?"

But it wasn't just the man who answered her. All three of them started talking at once, their words jumbling together. The Nord man pleaded with her, whimpering and begging for her not to kill him while he apologized over and over for the people he'd killed at war. The older woman in the middle merely snapped at her, threatening her if she didn't remove the sack from her head and demanded she be released while the Khajiit man cackled madly and started regaling her with all the reasons plenty of people would want him dead.

There was so much talking, hissing and pleading all at once. She felt overwhelmed and pressed a hand to her head. The voices were in the depths of her mind, whispering over and over to her. Insisting that she kill. That she murder and sate her blade with blood. She gripped Mehrunes' Razor tighter in her hand and felt her skin prickling and her blood boiling. A vein throbbed against her skull and with each painful pang, the voices grew stronger and louder, chanting. _Demanding_.

"SHUT UP!" She shrieked at them all, ordering them to stop! But they would _not_. The voices grew louder and hurt so much. Her head wouldn't stop throbbing. She had to make it stop and before she knew it she was standing over three bloodied corpses as the voices thundering in her head slowly quieted and faded from her mind. She was shaking all over and white-knuckled from the intensity that she was gripping the newly imbibed Razor in her hand. It was stronger now that it had been stained with the blood of the innocent. The Black Hand on her arm had also withdrawn down to her wrist, only tenderly clutching at her now.

She felt warm tears streaming down her cheeks and she fell to her knees and dropped the Razor on the ground and although her hands were stained with blood she threw them to her mouth to hold back the scream building within. _What have I done? How could this have happened? Why?_ _Why?_ She kept asking herself.

"Oh don't be so overdramatic dear," The woman's voice danced through the nearly silent room, "Crying after the way you brutally murdered those three? That's just asinine," she laughed stepping beside Rona and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You've no reason to fret child. Guilt, innocence, right, wrong... forget all that. What matters here is that I ordered you to kill and you obeyed. As far as I'm concerned, you did well."

She turned away from her then, unlocking the door and said, "If you want to continue living you will join us at our sanctuary in Falkreath. Niven will guide you there if you'd like. Otherwise, go off on your own. See how long you last." The woman gave one last devious laugh and swept out the door.

Rona stared hard at the floor and kept wondering how she'd got there. How she'd fallen so far. She'd done everything in her power to evade the Brotherhood. It wasn't until... Her eyes darted to the lightly glowing Razor on the floor.

Every time she held it she felt more powerful. But she also felt like she was losing herself bit by bit. With the blade, she had no sense of right or wrong. It didn't matter. It was irrelevant with that much power in her hands, for who would dare to oppose her? 

She shook her head. _No._ She thought. _I can't do this anymore. I can't._ She stood up then, carefully wiping her tears away on her sleeve and turned to face the assassin.

She was utterly astonished to see him in his plain clothes. He'd changed out of his leather armor and was wearing a very familiar blue tunic. He was finishing tying his long tawny brown hair back and allowed it to cascade between his shoulder blades. A gasp caught in her throat when he looked at her and asked, "Are you ready?"

Her eyes widened. She knew him. "You... you're..."

"Yes, from the second-hand shop in Windhelm," he answered her plainly and made for the door, "Let's get moving. I'd like to return to Falkreath soon. Because of this entire escapade, chasing you to the Rift after you stole my contract, my mark has grown. I need to kill soon."

He stepped outside without another look at her. Rona walked towards the door, following him, but stopped for a moment and glanced back at the Razor on the floor. "No more," she whispered, leaving it behind as swept out after him.

(Background music _Where Legends Rest_ by Faolan)

"Hit me again Orgnar." Bishop slid his glass across the bar towards the disgruntled Nord bartender.

"Gonna drink us dry again tonight?"

"Looks that way," he replied with a scowl on his face. It was his third night back in Riverwood and he'd somehow convinced himself that she was actually going to show up. He'd even ordered an entire bottle of Alto wine and had a glass put aside for her in the hope that she'd come walking through that door at some point.

But with each passing day, he was slowly starting to doubt that he'd ever see her again at all. His anxiousness got the better of him and he started to think that she really had died out there, or that she'd been picked off by a dragon or some other predator on her way there. Then his mind started to wander over the worst thought of all - that she didn't even love him anymore.

He knew it was stupid and that it was the hard liquor getting him like that, putting his mind in a bad place, but he couldn't help it.

Orgnar refilled his glass with brandy and pushed it back. Bishop took it and downed the entire thing in one gulp.

He slammed the glass on the counter and smacked his lips, "Six _fucking_ months."

Orgnar raised a brow at him.

Bishop looked at the bartender, his eyes rimmed red as he scoffed, "Do you know how long that is for me to go without bedding a woman? That's mind-boggling for me. It's... it's ridiculous! It's inhuman! How can she fucking do this to me!?"

Orgnar chuckled and shook his head, "I think it's time I cut you off."

"Fuck you Orgnar," Bishop barked at him.

Orgnar just looked at him with half-lidded eyes and said, "Yeah. You're done. Do me a favor and pay your tab before you head out this time."

Bishop grumbled and started patting himself up and down looking for his coin purse. He buried his hand in a pocket, yanking it out, but before he tossed it on the counter he said, "Hit me again."

Orgnar just stared him.

"I said, hit me again."

"I'm about to if you keep it up, ranger."

"Come on Orgnar, we've known each other for how long?"

"Too long," Orgnar said, "Would prefer it if you'd go harass Valga out in Falkreath for a change."

"Can't. I promised her I'd be _here_ ," he pressed a finger to the bar, "at _this_ piece of shit establishment you're running."

"If I pour you one more shot will that shut you the fuck up?" Orgnar asked pointedly.

"It might," Bishop said with a drunken chuckle.

Orgnar poured another glass, but before handing it back said, "Pay your tab."

"Yeah, yeah, here just take it," Bishop pushed his coin purse over and Orgnar passed him his last drink. Instead of downing it in one go this time, however, Bishop just sipped on it and sighed dejectedly to himself. He hadn't wanted to be completely sloshed when he saw her again for the first time in ages, but it was hard not to be sitting there waiting for days on end while his hopefulness slowly faded away.

Just then the door opened and he snapped his neck back, as his heart banged in his chest. The moment he saw that it wasn't her though, he turned away and let out an irritated sigh, sipping more on his brandy.

The traveler stepped up to the bar and pulled up a stool next to him. Bishop couldn't help it when he looked her over. She was breath-taking in her beauty. Redguard from the look of it, with beautiful bronze skin and black, curly hair tied up neatly on the back of her head. She had a knock-out hourglass figure and was wearing a tight pair of black leather trousers and a long yellow tunic that dipped low at the neck, revealing the top of her ample bosom. Bishop nearly groaned at the sight of that.

"What can I do for you stranger?" Orgnar asked her.

"I'll take a room and whatever's hot out of the oven," she said with a smooth, sultry tone of voice.

"Anything to drink?"

She glanced at Bishop, noticing his staring. She gave him a once over herself and with a wry smile said, "I'll have whatever he's having."

Bishop leaned an elbow on the counter, letting his staring be more obvious as he swirled his glass and took a sip. Then he started doing what came naturally. He flirted, lacing his words with plenty of innuendo, "It's brandy sweetheart, might be a little rough going down. Think you can handle it?"

She grinned at him and cocked her head, "I think I'll be alright. I've enjoyed brandy before."

Orgnar's lip curled and he gave an annoyed grunt, which neither party noticed before he turned away to head into the cellar and collect a hot plate for the woman. 

She curled her fingers into the band holding her hair up and tugged on it, setting her long hair spiraling down her shoulders. Bishop never thought it would be possible for a woman to become even more eye-catching until then, and gods was she beautiful. It had been a damn long time since he'd been with a woman... since he'd been with his woman and he was aching for that release. It just wasn't the same when he did it himself.

He'd been desperately holding out for her too. But as time wore on, his sexual frustrations were only getting worse and when once he never bothered to look at another woman, he couldn't help it now.

Bishop didn't say anything else, being far too focused on tracing every perfect curve of this luscious woman's body and letting his horny imagination run wild when she decided to break the silence and asked, "You live around here?"

Bishop's eyes jumped from the cleavage of her full breasts and back up to her lovely dark eyes, "Nah," he said taking another sip from his glass, "I'm just a wanderer, you?"

"A traveling sellsword and merchant."

"From Hammerfell I take it?"

She smiled coyly, "How'd you guess?"

He chuckled, "The accent, the clothes, that scent - what is that? Sandalwood?"

She laughed a little, "Close. Agarwood. You can smell the incense on me?"

"A bit. Don't get me wrong though, it's nice. I spent a few years out in Hammerfell. That smell was everywhere around there."

"Hm, yeah. That's one of the more popular ones back home. Was looking to sell some of it up in Solitude."

He raised his brows at her, "And you'd risk trekking there on foot instead of taking the safety of the seas?" 

"I can handle myself," she said patting the single curved sword at her hip.

"You ever fought a dragon before?" He asked her seriously.

She looked him over, meeting his sharp amber eyes with her own dark ones, "Never fought one... but I've seen them. I've seen what they can do."

"Well trust me when I tell you that you do not want to fight one of those angry sons of bitches."

"You've fought one before?"

Bishop let out a breathy chuckle and downed the rest of his brandy, "Sweetheart, you're talking to the number one dragonslayer in all of Skyrim."

Her eyes widened and she breathed, " _You?_ "

He grinned at her, "That's right."

"You're the _Dragonborn?_ "

His face fell as he was suddenly reminded of Rona. Her question went unanswered as Orgnar came back up with a plate of spiced beef and a hot baked potato. He set it down in front of her and poured her a glass of brandy. Bishop looked to Orgnar and held his own empty glass out, shaking it a little expectantly.

"We're all out," Orgnar said firmly.

Bishop looked at him with half-lidded eyes and then eyed the full bottle in the man's hands, "Oh come on Orgnar. I might even tip you this time!"

"Don't make me toss you out of here," he threatened with a snarl.

"Wow, you'd really do that to me and _Karnwyr?_ " He motioned to the wolf who was steadily snoozing near the hearth fire with an empty plate sitting nearby.

"Pft," Orgnar scoffed, "The wolf is welcome to stay, at least he knows how to be quiet."

The woman looked back at the wolf and smiled, "He's yours?"

"Yup, my pride and joy," Bishop said with a lupine grin.

She laughed and asked, "He wears armor?"

"Of course! Can't do without enchanted armor up here in Skyrim, not with those fire breathing bastards everywhere nowadays."

She looked Bishop up and down once more, examining his leather armor and he smirked at her, pushing the thoughts of his lovely Ladyship from his booze-addled mind, and let his smaller head do the thinking for him when he asked salaciously, "See something you like darlin'?"

She just grinned in reply and took a long draught of her brandy, "Mind if I ask you something?"

He shrugged and said, "Shoot."

"You ever hear of the Blades?"

He gave her a side-eye glance and started snickering under his breath as he thought of the old maid Delphine and her elderly counterpart Esbern. "The hell you want to know about them for?"

"Well," she started as she dug into her food, "I didn't come here just to sell my sword or my wares. I came here to fight the dragons... like you."

"And what in Oblivion possessed you to want to do that?"

"Skyrim's not the only place with dragons anymore."

He turned to face her, looking hard at her now, "What do you mean?"

"You... you don't know?" She looked on at him forlorn, "The dragons are everywhere now."

Bishop knit his brows together, thinking hard. So it really was getting worse. He thought it was just him, that he'd maybe been getting the short end of the stick in coming across so many of them lately, but something was changing. The dragon menace was only growing and as far as he knew, Rona hadn't found the Elder Scroll yet. She needed help damn it! Why was she refusing to let him or anyone close to her help? This wasn't just her life on the line, it was the entire world's!

"My village was burned down by an entire flock of dragons," she explained.

" _Flock?_ " His mind was reeling at that word. The hell did she mean by flock? Dragons were territorial, they rarely if ever worked or gathered together.

"Yes. There were so many of them, a dozen or more. When I'd heard that the Blades were rebuilding and setting out to put an end to the dragon menace I just knew that I just had to come to Skyrim to join them. The problem is that I have no idea where they are. It's all very hush-hush still. I'd heard from a few others that were searching for their base of operations that they're in hiding because of the Thalmor," she grasped his hand suddenly, drawing his attention to her and she smiled sweetly at him, "But I never in all my years thought I'd meet the Dragonborn himself! I've only heard rumors, and honestly, all the stories about you are so conflicting. Most people seem to think that you're dead, or that you're a woman, but now that I've met you, surely you can take me to the Blades! I want to join you in your fight against the dragons!"

He stared at her and then pulled his hand away, "I'm not the Dragonborn."

She knit her brows together, "You're not? But you said-"

"Yeah, I know what I said. I'm the one they call Arrow, the dragonslayer... I'm not the Dragonborn."

She looked downtrodden and said, "So the Dragonborn really is dead then?"

"No," he stood up and pressed a hand to his forehead as panic started to flood him, "Rona's still alive, she _has_ to be."

"Who's Rona?" the woman asked.

He just scoffed and scowled at her. What was he doing with this woman? Talking to her, flirting even? Was he trying to bed her? How could he even think of doing that? She didn't know a damn thing. Not a damn fucking thing about anything. She'd never even fought a dragon before. She had no idea.

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind, trying to come to his senses. He couldn't do this to her. Not when she was out there somewhere facing down entire _flocks_ of fucking dragons. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, fighting against the helplessness he'd been trying to stave off for days with booze. He was not a man who was good at waiting. He was a man of action. But he'd promised her he'd be there. Spend an entire week in that place and wait for her.

And she had to come. She just had to. She couldn't do this on her own. Not anymore.

The young woman was watching Bishop with a look of concern etched on her face when Orgnar asked her suddenly, "What's your name miss?"

She turned to him and said, "Lashah."

"Well Lashah, you've found the right place," he passed her a slip of paper which she took and read over. A huge grin sprawled across her face and she looked back at Orgnar, "Really? Is this true!?"

"Yup. Sky Haven Temple is where you'll want to go. Talk to Delphine or Esbern and if you can prove you've got what it takes then you're in."

She stood up suddenly and dropped a few coins onto the counter, "Sorry, but it looks like I won't need that room."

"Best of luck to you miss," Orgnar said with a nod.

Lashah looked up at Bishop and said, "Sorry about tonight hun, I really was considering it, but I just can't miss out on this. Maybe I'll see you around?"

Bishop breathed a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Yeah... see you around."

With that, she practically skipped out of the inn leaving the door swinging behind her. Bishop was just watching the door swing when Orgnar cleared his throat and he turned back to see a full glass of brandy and a bottle on the counter, "It's on the house, Bish. I think you need this one."

Bishop took his seat again and glared at the glass in his hand for a moment before he downed it in a single gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Orgnar gave him a sympathetic look and said, "Hang in there ranger."

" _Six. Fucking. Months._ " Bishop said with an exasperated sigh. Orgnar chuckled, patting him on the shoulder and left him to drink his troubles away.

Bishop grabbed the bottle of brandy, poured another shot and looked into his glass. He leaned an elbow on the counter, pressing his head in his hand as he sang quietly under his breath, " _Staring at the bottom of your glass... same old empty feeling in your heart..._ "


	8. Chapter 8 Dread Family

**Chapter 8**

 **Dread Family**

Niven mounted his steed, a chestnut brown stallion with a black mane and a white tail. He looked back at Jillian and held a hand out, inviting her to join him, "Come on then. We need to get moving while it's still light out. I expect it'll take us a few days to get to Falkreath provided we're spared a heavy snowfall."

She just stared at him for a moment and he shook his hand, "You'd rather wait it out then? Go off on your own and pray for Sithis not to take you?"

With a groan, she reluctantly took his hand and he pulled her up onto the back of the horse. He snapped the reins and sent them cantering off through the partially frozen marshes. He felt her tentatively grasp at his sides, trying to hold on and he said, "You may wrap your arms around me if you need to."

"Can't we just go back to Morthal and rent a carriage?" She asked with irritation.

"No," he replied flatly.

With another exasperated grumble, she wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and he spurred his steed on to move quicker. They rode for several hours in silence at top speed. He wanted to get to Rorikstead sooner than later where they could rest for the night before moving on again.

After some time, he slowed his steed down to a light trot to give the mount a break. He felt her arms drift from his waist as she settled back into the saddle, relaxing more. He broke the silence and asked, "What do you know of our organization?"

He felt her shift in her seat before she said, "Not much. I mean… I've read some books about it."

"What have you read?"

"The Night Mother's Truth, The Brothers of Darkness, Sithis…"

"Most of what you've read is true. But I'm sure you have more questions. You are welcome to ask me and I will answer to the best of my ability."

Silence. Niven expected as much. It was always hard coming to terms with this fate. A lifetime of servitude to the Dread Father was a lot to take in. She was more than likely still in denial about her true nature too.

After another moment she finally asked, "Can I choose my own contracts?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Why not?"

He looked over his shoulder at her, examining her curious expression before he said, "We are without the Listener at this time." She made no reply to this so he asked, "Do you know-?"

"I know what the Listener is," she cut him off.

He gave a nod and looked forward at their path again, "Without the Listener it's been a struggle finding real contracts out here in Skyrim. We've received word that the other Sanctuaries in Tamriel are suffering as well. Many assassins have been taken by the Black Hand, the Gravelord, the Wraith, whatever you want to call it. So when we do find contracts we dole them out accordingly to those who need them most."

"So you've been rationing them," she said with comprehension.

"Precisely."

"So I..." she trailed off.

"You stole a very important contract from me. My mark has been growing these past two months quite steadily. I was next in line to receive a contract which would stay the hand. But now that you've gone and fulfilled it. Well... needless to say, I am in dire need of a contract kill."

"Then why didn't _you_ kill the one in the shack with the contract!?" She snapped angrily.

He chuckled, "I was going to. They all had hits put out on them. We were surprised by how overzealous you were. We honestly didn't expect you to take all three. I had my bets on the Khajiit personally, Astrid assumed you'd take the old woman, thinking you had a pattern," he glanced back at her again, "But you don't hate old women do you? You just like to kill."

She scowled hatefully at him and he turned away from her shaking his head. Complete denial. It was a rare thing to meet someone who could slaughter people so brutally and yet act as though they were totally innocent. They were quiet for the rest of the ride to Rorikstead. He would press his mount to move on at a quicker pace every hour or so until they finally arrived just as the sun was setting.

Jillian was first to dismount, seemingly wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible. He could hardly blame her, after all, he was the one who set the Dread Hounds upon her. Granted he did it on his mistress's command, but he still could have refused. He felt entirely apathetic about it, however. Turning the girl over to Sithis was just another one of his duties and he'd learned to be obedient long ago when he first joined the Brotherhood at too young of an age.

He watched as Jillian furiously pushed her way into the local inn, her long white-blonde hair cascading wildly behind her before the door shut. He slid off the stallion and pulled a golden apple from one of the saddlebags, presenting it to the steed while he patted him on the neck, "Rest well Aettus. We'll leave on the morrow at dawn."

He looked to the sky and saw a thick blanket of clouds headed their way from the north and rubbed at the mark gripping his shoulder, mumbling, "Hopefully the snowfall will stay light."

He stabled his stallion and stepped into the inn. There was no sign of the young elf woman anywhere, although he did note that the door to one of the rooms was firmly shut. He shrugged it off and headed to the bar, looking to order his own room and a meal for the night.

Rona laid in bed just staring at the ceiling. She'd dressed down to an old under dress she had for sleeping in and was braiding her hair while her mind wandered over the last week's events.

She felt so furiously angry about everything. About Delvin betraying her, about the fact that she still couldn't decipher the meaning behind the Dwemer dreams, and that Odahviing hadn't come when she called, although that worried her more than anything. But what she was most upset over was the fact that she was going to miss her chance to see Bishop.

She had no idea why she was even trying to go and see him. There was no way he'd just want to talk. She knew what would happen, they'd cling to one another like their lives depended on it, spend days on end indulging in each other, making love and then... she'd be forced to leave him again when her destiny came calling. But even knowing all that, it still would have been worth it, she thought.

She held her right arm up, allowing the loose, linen sleeve of her dress to fall back, revealing her wrist. The mark had already moved. It looked like a small bruise like someone had gripped her wrist too tightly and left an imprint of their fingers there. She traced it with her other hand and sighed. What would Bishop think of her now? Now that she was one of them? One of the Brotherhood? She'd murdered five people in cold blood.

She'd left the Razor behind. Maybe without it she could find some restraint. Maybe she wouldn't have to kill as much anymore. She would only kill enough to stem the Black Hand on her arm from time to time.

She let her hand fall onto her midriff and closed her eyes. There were more important things she had to focus on. She tried to think of the Dwemer language again, to go back to that place in the dark where the words shone brightly and bore into her mind. Before she knew it, she was there, watching as the Dwemer whipped at pale-skinned slaves, setting them to work on building that place. They were the snow-elves, long before they'd become the Falmer. She whisked by them. She could not help them now.

She flew through that place, stopping in front of an enormous stone mural covered in images of dragons that were flying around a vast mountain and looking down upon someone. The Dragonborn she assumed. Then the words, so many words etched into the stone, flickering with bright blue and yellow hues. Again the words tried to piece themselves together and she set to focusing on them, trying in vain to read them.

"Ah!" Rona clenched her teeth and sat up in the dark of her room and grabbed her wrist. It was throbbing painfully all of a sudden. She leaned over to her bedside table and made to cast a flames spell. It flickered for a moment and then vanished.

She'd been struggling with her fire for a long time now. She couldn't even summon her great wall of golden fire anymore. She knew it had something to do with her emotions... the coldness in her heart. She focused hard, forcing the fire to burn in her hand. Finally, it cast and she leaned over to light the candle nearby but as she loomed over the nightstand she saw something which made her gasp and her flame went out, thrusting her back into the dark.

It couldn't be. She'd left it back in the shack. There was no way. Rona tried to swallow but her mouth was dry. She cast her flames spell again, a little brighter this time and just stared at it. The Razor really was there, sheathed and glowing a light red.

Maybe he'd...? She looked at the door. Her runes were still in place and the chair was still under the door handle. Although Niven had managed to get through her security once before already, so she doubted that would have stopped him at all. She got up and dispelled the runes and moved the chair. She opened the door and peered out into the main hall of the inn. It was entirely empty that late at night save for the Altmer, who was seated at a table in the corner. He was busy writing something in a journal.

He paused a moment and took a long draught from his wine glass as he held the journal up and looked it over. He set it down again and then noticed her standing there staring at him. He held his glass in his palm, swirling it and asked, "Care to join me?"

She could not understand this man. How could he be so damn casual about everything? After stalking her, terrorizing her and sending her to that horrible place to be torn apart by those creatures… here he was, nonchalantly asking her to join him for a drink like they were old friends. She narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a hateful glare. He replied with a small smile and returned to what he was doing.

She half-considered going back to bed, but with the Razor literally on her nightstand… she needed answers damn it! So she stepped into the room, barefoot and still just in her small clothes. She took the open chair near him and gripped the seat as she looked him over warily, trying to read his face for any cues that spelled his guilt. He continued to scribble in his journal as he quietly asked, "You have trouble sleeping as well?"

"Only when people break into my room," she shot back and stared hard at him. His soft eyes looked up, meeting her amber ones for just a moment. His long hair had been undone from the band he had the ends wrapped in, so it fell gently around his shoulders and a single long bang drifted over one of his dark blue eyes. She blushed at the sight of him. He was... striking in a way. He gave a light chuckle at her expression and went back to writing in his journal.

She frowned inwardly at herself and mustered up her anger, demanding, "How did you get in my room?"

"You're not very good at magic," he replied without looking at her, "Which surprises me considering how you managed to escape my grasp back in Windhelm."

She tensed up but kept her face still. That's right, she'd used a shout back then to escape. Did he know who she was then? They were quiet for a minute while he worked and sipped on his wine before he finally set his pencil down and held the journal up again, holding it away from his face to look it over. She wondered if his eyes were bad or something until he set it down, spun it around and pushed it over to her, "What do you think?"

Rona looked down, but instead of seeing lines of text like she expected, she saw a meticulously hand-drawn image of the tavern bard who'd been playing earlier. She was a pretty young Nord woman with dark hair tied up into a messy bun.

"I tried to capture her essence while she was still playing earlier. I've been working on the finishing touches," he mused thoughtfully while he stroked his chin.

Rona didn't know what to say. She was trying so damn hard to stay angry at this man, but he wasn't making it easy at all. "It's good," she said finally, "You have talent."

"Thank you," he said, his soft eyes meeting hers again, "But I feel like it's missing something... here," he rolled the pencil towards her, "Add to it."

She blushed and said, "I can't draw."

He laughed, "It's fine, just add whatever you like. I don't care if it's good or not. It's just pencil, I can erase it later."

Rona picked up the pencil and pressed it to the page. She wasn't sure where to start and she really didn't want to ruin such a beautiful image. Even if it was made by a murderer. She kept having to remind herself of that fact. Why did this man have to be so easy to talk to? To make casual conversation with like he wasn't an assassin? She was staring at the page for a while when he finally said, "If it makes you feel any better I have hundreds of other sketches and don't mind if you ruin that one."

She chewed on her tongue and thought back to her time in the Mage's Guild when she'd be stuck in boring classrooms all day memorizing incantations. Back then she'd spent most of her time doodling in the margins of her books and on her papers. She smirked at the image of the bard in front of her and started to doodle musical scales, notes, and other silly things. She got a little carried away with it and even started scribbling a curly mustache over the lip of the woman.

Rona was so absorbed in drawing nonsense all over the bard and smiling immaturely to herself that she forgot where she was right in that moment and who she was with until he asked, "May I see?"

She snapped back to reality and looked up at him, then down at the ridiculous doodles she'd scribbled all over the page and blushed furiously at her own handiwork. It certainly was nowhere near the quality of his work, in fact, her drawings looked like they were made by a child and didn't really suit the realistic pencil sketch at all. Still, she turned the journal around and pushed it back to him. He took it and held it out, examining it. A gentle smile perked at the corner of his mouth as he said, "Perfect."

Rona looked sheepishly at him and asked, "Really?"

"Yes. I like it a lot. It gives it a childish whimsy, which is fitting for a bard, don't you think?"

She shrugged, "I guess so."

"I don't think I'll show her though, I doubt she'd find the mustache as humorous as I do," he smiled back at her and set the journal down. This was frustrating. Rona hadn't gotten a single answer out of this man about anything and she felt totally flustered by him. What the hell was wrong with her!? He was a godsdamned cold-blooded serial killer, _not her friend_.

She curled her fists and demanded, "Why did you break into my room?"

He raised his brows at her sudden change in tone and immediately dropped his own kind demeanor and said more seriously, "You know exactly why."

"You're sick. You know that?" She glared at him.

He leaned back in his chair and swirled his glass of wine, "I won't disagree with you there."

She stood up suddenly and spat, "J-Just! Stay out of my room! If I ever catch you coming in again," she aimed a finger at him, an angry fire burning in her eyes, "You won't live to regret it." She quickly ran back into her rented room and shut the door behind her. She leaned her back against it and pressed a hand to her face, breathing, and murmured to herself, "What the hell Rona... what are you doing?"

She looked back over at the Razor sitting on the nightstand and glared angrily at it. He _had_ to have been the one to put it there. There was no other explanation. He was a creep, breaking into her room twice already and doing whatever he liked. She moved forward, grabbing it off the nightstand and stuffed it into a bottom dresser drawer, wrapping it up in some dusty old linens.

She was going to leave it behind again and this time he wouldn't know. No one would. She'd just leave it there and hope no one else would ever find it.

Rona crawled into her bed and yanked the covers over herself. She'd leave the candlelight going and let it burn out. She didn't want to sleep in the dark again.

The next morning Rona woke with a mild headache. She'd dreamed heavily about the Dwemer ruins and had stared hard at the language on the walls, trying to make sense of it but she couldn't understand it at all. She resolved to find a book on the subject and see if she could translate the words.

She quickly dressed herself and gathered her things. She put her hand on the doorknob and stopped suddenly, looking back at the nearby dresser for a moment. She turned towards it, knelt down and quickly opened the drawer to check inside. She shifted the linens around, casting dust off of them and found the Razor still there, nestled between them. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now she just had to make sure that the elf didn't sneak in there and take it.

She shoved the drawer closed and stepped into the main hall of the inn. There was no sign of Niven so she went outside and a cold gust cut through her sending a shiver down her spine. There had been a light snowfall the night before and the ground was covered in white. Rona pulled her fur wrap tightly around herself, pulled her hood over her ears and cast a resist frost spell.

Niven was nearby feeding his stallion and preparing for their continued journey. Rona approached him and he noticed her and said, "We're lucky the snowfall was light last night. We should be in Falkreath later this afternoon, before sundown." He climbed onto his steed and held his hand out, inviting her to join him again. She pressed her lips together and took his hand, letting him pull her up. She reluctantly grasped his waist and they set off again.

They arrived at Falkreath around five in the afternoon. She hadn't said anything else to the Altmer, still feeling angry with him over everything and he didn't bother to make conversation at all. It was a relief when they finally stopped in a pine-strewn grove just outside the city. Rona climbed off the horse and Niven followed after, drawing his steed along with him as they stepped into a quiet glade with a small pond where several other horses stood, grazing quietly together. The snow had melted for the most part in that area, leaving the fauna glistening with only a few white patches here and there. The ground was muddy and she watched her footing admiring the beauty of the place while dragonflies danced along the surface of the water.

Niven brought his steed to the edge of the water, leaving him with the others and turned to his left. Rona followed as he led her through a small cave entrance hidden behind thick, hanging vines. They were only a few steps in when she was absolutely dismayed to see that beautiful place sullied by one of those horrific doors.

Niven stood by as she walked up next to him. He said, "Press your right hand to the door and when it asks you the question, give it the right answer."

She looked timidly at him, "What's the right answer?"

"You'll know," he said.

Rona took a breath and pressed her hand to the door. Immediately it glowed red and an eerie voice hissed forth, " _What is the music of life?_ "

It startled her and she went to yank her hand away when she felt the mark on her arm surge forth. Dark shadows of Black Hands sprung from beneath her palm, caressing the door and no matter how much she tried to pull away they held her there. Her heart pound in her chest and her head started throbbing as she heard strange whispers in her ears that sounded eerily like small children.

Finally, the answer crawled upon her tongue against her will, tasting foul like decay and she hissed, " _Silence, my brother._ "

The hands receded back into her palm and the glowing faded as the door spoke again, " _Welcome home._ "

When she just stood there, staring at it, however, Niven responded by opening the door and said, "From now on you can simply press your right hand to the door and it will know you. Come on, it's time for you to meet the others."

Rona followed him inside the winding tunnel. It appeared to be an old hollowed out cavern. She looked around at all the red banners hanging from the walls, each marked with the symbol of the Black Hand pressed to the center. There was some furniture pressed against the walls, mostly cabinets filled with bottles of potions and elixirs and a pair of alchemy tables fixed between them. Although there were plenty of bookshelves full of a wide variety of spell books and tomes while an assortment of comfortable chairs dotted the corners of that first room. It looked like a quiet place where one could sit to read and brew potions which seemed odd to her. It was hard to imagine that an assassin would like to do common things like reading or in Niven's case, draw, but she realized that despite their chosen profession, they were still people too and they weren't always busy murdering.

Niven led her down some stairs into a stony cavern with a small waterfall and a creek running through it. They were greeted by the sounds of people arguing loudly.

"You _disgusting_ little jester! If I ever catch you in my room again I will not hesitate to gut you myself, may Sithis take me!" It was the familiar voice of the woman from the shack, the one called Astrid.

Then another voice danced through the room which made all the hairs on Rona's skin stand on end.

"Oh, he will! Sithis will take you! Heeheehee! He'll have you! Drag you right to the Void he will!" The jester's merry laughter bounced along the cavern walls and Rona immediately pulled her fur wrap up to cover her nose and mouth, making sure to hide the three distinguishable strikes on her left cheek.

They stepped into the cavern and she caught sight of a very large group of people, split two ways it seemed.

On the side of Astrid were a large, bare-chested Nord man, an Argonian male, a tall, bearded Redguard fellow, a Dunmer woman, an elderly man and to her astonishment, a little girl.

Off to the side of the jester were an enormous male Orc, a snide looking Imperial man, a Khajiit woman, and a Redguard that Rona couldn't quite discern as male or female.

Cicero carried on, his mad cackling getting the best of him when he shouted, "She's a beast fucker! Eeeheehee! I saw her! Letting the wolf-man take her in the throes of passion, letting him transform while inside! Oh my!"

"I knew it," the old man muttered with a smirk under his breath.

"Oh dear," the young girl put a hand to her cheek, though she wasn't as startled by any of this as Rona expected her to be.

"It's none of your damn business what I do with my husband! You filthy little-!" She grabbed her dagger and took a step forward and the jester jumped back, hiding behind the unamused Orc's hulking body. But it was the bare-chested Nord man that held Astrid back, grabbing her shoulder and saying, "The runt isn't worth it, Astrid. Let it go."

"HE WAS INSIDE OUR WARDROBE, ARNBJORN! WHAT WERE YOU EVEN DOING IN THERE!?"

"Cicero only wished to know how Mother feels," he simpered and sighed as he peered around the Orc, "To understand how it feels to be tucked into a _tight, dark_ and _cramped_ little space," then he started giggling wildly again when he said, "And it seems the wolf-man wanted to know the same!"

In that instant the Nord man, Arnbjorn, lost his self-control and transformed into a werewolf right then and there, lunging fiercely for the jester, but the hulking Orc stood firmly between them both and thrust his huge arms out, grabbing the werewolf by the throat and somehow managed to keep his claws at bay all while Cicero danced on his toes, laughing like the madman he was.

Finally, the effeminate Redguard on the jester's side spoke, their voice was soft and breathy, "Cicero, please, contain yourself," they said, trying to calm the mad cackling of their fellow. Then they looked back to Astrid and took a deep bow, "Mistress Astrid, I humbly apologize on behalf of our resident _fool_ ," they hissed the word and gave a deep glare of warning to the still tittering jester who started to slow his cackles.

Astrid however, was absolutely livid and snapped back, "If you don't reel him in and control him I will not hesitate to have you thrown from our Sanctuary, _all of you!_ I'll be damned if I let anyone disrespect my authority around here!"

The Orc who had his arms crossed over spoke up and grunted, "You would really violate the Tenets like that? Throw out the Keeper himself? And what of the Night Mother, you'd let her vessel decay and fall apart?"

Astrid focused her fury on the Orc then and shouted, "As the official Speaker of this Sanctuary my word is law! I don't give a damn who any of you think you are, but as far as I'm concerned, none of you are the Listener and if I must, then the Night Mother goes with all of you too!"

"Perhaps if you just give him a contract to work," the Redguard suggested, "Cicero is going a little... stir-crazy here. He needs to kill from time to time."

"Why would I waste contracts on someone who doesn't need them!? He has a permanent stay of hand as Keeper! I will not do that. If he needs to get out," she turned her hateful glare back to Cicero who was meekly looking at her from the side of the Orc, "then he should just. _Get. Out._ "

Niven stepped forward then and cleared his throat loudly, "We're back."

Everyone looked over at them then, their eyes traveling over the Altmer for a moment before they all fell and settled onto Rona. She was glad her cheeks were covered, not only to keep Cicero from recognizing her but to cover her furiously blushing face. Niven glanced over at her as well and raised a brow at her now hidden face, but didn't ask about it and mused with a shrug, "Welcome to our dysfunctional little family."

Astrid pulled herself together, trying to look more professional when she breathed, "Jillian... glad to have you finally join us."

Rona just nodded and Niven walked past the group heading straight for the bearded Redguard man on Astrid's side.

"Niven," he smiled, nodding his head to the Altmer, "Looking a bit run-down. Astrid told me what happened," he peered over at Rona and smirked, "She sounds like a feisty one."

"That she is Nazir. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to regale you with that story. My chest is feeling tight, so anything you can give me, I'd appreciate."

"Not to worry my friend," he pulled two sealed envelopes from his pocket and handed them to Niven, "Astrid gave me permission to give you these two - oh! And our lovely little kitten, Kisni, has one she wanted to give you as well."

The Khajiit female lowered her ears and hissed, "Call me _kitten_ again _Redguard_ and your tongue will be meeting my scythe."

Nazir chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck, "Ah yes, feisty women all around."

Kisni walked up to Niven and said, "Come, I shall go into detail outside." She bade Niven follow her and the two disappeared back towards the entryway. Both groups dispersed at that point, everyone going back to their business. Cicero stayed tucked behind the Orc as they walked and Astrid continued to glare at his back until he was out of sight. Then she turned towards Rona, walked up to her and smirked, "Well then... that was, not the first impression I wanted to give you, but so be it. As you can see things are a little… _tense_ around here."

Rona just nodded once but said nothing more. She wasn't exactly sure where she stood among these strange people and the last thing wanted was to put her foot in her mouth or step on any toes. She also didn't trust any of them, especially after seeing how they turned on one another just then.

"I suppose I never properly introduced myself before," she pressed a hand to her chest and said, "My name is Astrid and as I'm sure you were able to glean from my little conversation earlier, I am the Speaker of this Sanctuary. I take it Niven explained the details and nuances of our organization to you?"

"Yes," Rona said tersely.

"Good. Then you'll understand that my word is law here, at least until we find the new Listener, which we have not been able to do for a little over six months now and we may never."

"Why's that?" Rona couldn't help herself. She needed more information. What did they think happened to the Listener? To _her?_

"Hm," Astrid hummed, "According to the fool, Cicero, the new Listener was also the Dragonborn. Some young elf woman. But word is that the Dragonborn is dead... which, honestly, is no surprise considering well... the dragons and all that."

"So you don't know who the new Listener is?"

"No, we don't."

"Do you have any way to find them?" She realized then she was pushing it with her prying, sounding a little too eager.

Astrid raised a brow at her and smirked, "My, my so curious, aren't we?"

Rona turned her face away, "I've... um, read a lot about the Dark Brotherhood. Your organization fascinates me is all. And to be here now... to be a part of it... well..."

Astrid smiled at her, almost proudly so, "I _knew_ you were a good catch. Listen, you'll hear plenty of naysayers go on about the fact that I brought you into the fold, but from what Niven told me about you, from the way you killed that old woman and how you slaughtered those three in the cabin... I knew I made the right choice," she put a hand to Rona's shoulder and said, "Welcome home Jillian."

She started walking away and called back, "Go ahead and get to know your new family a little better and when you're ready, talk to Nazir, he should have a pair of contracts for you. We'll want to get your mark to slow a bit and," she laughed, "you'll need to kill to do just that."

Rona watched her leave and then looked around at the dreary place, covered in tapestries of that hated hand. She looked down at her arm and drew her sleeve up. The mark had already grown significantly in the last day. It was gripping her forearm now. She watched and felt as it pulsed and drew itself upward again. What a horrible thing. How these people could worship that which threatened to kill them and take their souls to the Void was beyond her.

She let her sleeve drop and started her walk around the place. She caught sight of the bare-chested Nord man, Arnbjorn, swinging a thick broadsword against a training dummy. He attacked it with loud and furious roars of anger. She decided against formally meeting him at that time and moved along to the stairway leading into the back rooms. From there she crossed paths with the Dunmer woman and the older man who were mid-conversation before they both stopped. The Dunmer woman smiled kindly at her while the old man simply scrutinized her with a sneer on his face.

"Gabriella," the Dunmer woman said, shaking Rona's hand, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Just call me Festus," the old man grumbled without offering a hand.

"You can call me Jill," Rona said quietly.

Gabriella smiled at her and said, "Are you any good with magic, Jill? You're an elf too right? Bosmer I take it?"

Rona just nodded. _Bosmer. Sure. Let's go with that. The more misinformation they have on me the better_ , she thought.

"I hear the Bosmer are very good with conjuration, summoning familiars and all that," Gabriella started droning on and on but Rona's attention was drawn to the little girl sitting alone at a nearby table while she pored over a book. Gabriella seemed to notice her staring and smirked, "Interested in our resident unchild, are we?"

Rona broke from her reverie and felt herself blushing underneath her hood. Then Gabriella called to the girl, saying, "Babette dear, come meet Jill. She's very interested in getting to know you better."

"Oh is she?" Babette drawled with a wicked grin. She turned in her seat, pressing her hands to the back of the chair and put on a morose look as she cried, "Oh please help me! My mama and papa were murdered by the Dark Brotherhood and they've been keeping me here against my will! Please save me!"

Festus snorted a laugh and Gabriella started tittering under her breath as she waved a hand, "Oh Babette, darling, you're just the worst."

"Aren't I?" Babette said with a teasing smile, that's when Rona noticed something peculiar about the girl's eyes. They were very dark and had a strange glow to them.

"You're a vampire," she breathed with realization.

Babette grinned wider, licking at her fangs and said, "Oh dear, you've found me out! Hmm," then she looked Rona up and down with a hungry look in her eyes and said, "You could be a vampire too if you'd like. Maybe let me have a taste of that ripe Bosmeri blood in your veins, it's one of my favorites you know. Bosmer have some very... _decadent_ blood, from all that fresh, forest air they get and the cannibalism probably." A shiver crawled up Rona's spine and Babette noticed. She giggled at her and then turned back to her book.

"Don't mind her, she's just a sassy little granny," Gabriella tittered playfully.

"I take offense to that!" Babette called back, "I'd say after three-hundred years I've aged rather gracefully, wouldn't you?"

"Haven't aged at all is more like it!" Festus scoffed.

The three of them all laughed together and Rona was more disturbed than anything by their strange banter. The humor of murderers was beyond her. "Um," she interrupted them looking to Gabriella who seemed slightly saner than the other two, "Astrid said I should speak to Nazir about some contracts?"

"Oh right of course. How is your mark by the way? Grown quite a bit I'm sure?" Rona nodded meekly and Gabriella smirked at her, "No need to be so shy dear. We're all family here."

"I'd like to hurry…" Rona persisted.

Gabriella pointed to the next room over and Rona quickly walked away from them.

She heard Festus murmur, "She'll come around eventually. They always do."

And Gabriella huffed, "After what I heard she did to those three at the cabin? Oh definitely, she'll fit right in here."

 _No. I won't_ , Rona thought firmly to herself.

She hurried down the stairs into what looked like a large dining room then, with two tables large enough to fit at least a dozen people each and a small kitchen set off to the side. The bearded Redguard man and the Argonian were both seated at the table talking in hushed tones to one another.

"I'm just saying, Rasha has a point, Nazir," the Argonian hissed, "What is she thinking bringing another assassin into the fold when we're already struggling with finding contracts as it is? Ever since my mother's passing, she's started to let her position go to her head."

"I hear you Veezara, really I do, but you know how it is and with Arnbjorn backing her… Shit, I wouldn't want to mess with him, I've seen what he can do to a man," Nazir said, keeping his voice down.

Veezara noticed Rona standing there and cleared his throat and nodded in her direction. Nazir looked back and gave her a very friendly smile, despite how much he obviously disapproved of her being there.

"Ah, the new recruit. Jillian right?" He kept his tone light.

Rona nodded and stood to the side of the table, keeping a fair distance from the both of them when she asked, "Astrid said you'd have some contracts for me?"

"Yes, that I do," he said grabbing a pair of envelopes set in one neat pile on the table. He seemed far more organized than Delvin when it came to arranging his paperwork. "Got a couple of easy ones for you, for now. Astrid will have the complicated ones. But these are simple and quick," he handed her the first one, "This one's for a fellow out in Ivarstead. Name's Narfi, just a hapless old beggar that lives in a burned out home on the other side of the river, you know it?"

"Yeah," she said. She'd only met the beggar once before on her way through there and gave him the rest of her breakfast one morning. As far as she could tell he was completely mad. She had no idea why anyone would contact a group of assassins to kill someone like that.

"Good," Nazir said as he passed her the other envelope, "Then I won't have to explain his story. Now that one there, that's for a certain Orc out in Morthal who seems to have convinced himself that he's a bard."

Her heart sank, "Lurbuk?"

Nazir raised his brows, "So you know of him?"

"I've been through Morthal a few times before… he's… he's just a harmless Orc. Why would anyone want him dead?"

"Have you heard him sing?" Veezara challenged with a laugh.

While it was true that Lurbuk couldn't hold a tune to save his life, she'd never wish death upon him. Nazir said, "Apparently so many people sought his death, Astrid had to hold a lottery to determine the client."

Both he and Veezara chuckled loudly at that, but Rona looked on dismayed that there were enough people who'd actually perform the Black Sacrament just for that.

"Oh come on now girl, don't look like that," Nazir said almost sympathetically. Rona felt her stomach turning. For a while now she'd kept it all at bay, trying not to think about her current predicament, but it was really starting to well up and get to her. Here she was, turned assassin against her will by the Dark Brotherhood and she was accepting contracts from them to kill two completely innocent people.

Her legs felt weak and she fell into a chair and her fur wrap fell from her face. Both men looked at her with deep concern and Veezara asked, "Whoa, are you alright? You're looking rather pale."

"It's not your mark is it?" Nazir asked, "Astrid said you took out three contracts already so we figured it wouldn't be this bad this fast.

Rona choked back a sob and breathed out, "I can't do this. I'm not an assassin. I'm not a _murderer_ … I can't…"

Veezara and Nazir exchanged a knowing look and the Argonian hissed quietly, "I knew this was a bad idea. She's no killer. And if she's caught what's to stop her from-"

Nazir held up a hand, silencing his fellow then he turned his attention back to Rona and gave her a serious look, "I know you didn't choose this path, Jill. You made a grave mistake in killing the old woman. Trust me when I say I know what that's like," she met his gaze then and wondered if he really did understand. Had he been forced like her and learned to accept his fate? "But you're here now and you can't change a damn thing about it. So you're just going to have to suck it up and do what has to be done, do you understand?"

Rona nodded. She understood that all too well. Suck it up and do what has to be done was practically her motto as the Dragonborn.

"Now I recommend you head to Morthal first," Nazir said.

"Why?" She asked mindlessly as she tried to collect herself.

"There was the other thing you had to take care of for the Thieves Guild, right?"

Rona furrowed her brows at him. Didn't he know that contract was a lie? To get her there so they could take her?

"I've been talking to Delvin," he locked eyes with her, "He's a really close, old friend of mine. He's let me in a little on your, uh, _circumstances_."

Rona's voice caught in her throat. He knew she was the Dragonborn? Her eyes widened a little and Nazir said, "So I know you have some things you need to take care of. Go to Morthal, do what you have to there and then head out to Ivarstead and take care of that contract. Once Narfi is dead you can pay a visit to the Thieves Guild and catch up with Delvin. He'll want to know you're doing alright… that sound good?"

"Yeah," she nodded and quickly gathered herself and the contracts.

Before she had a chance to go though he stopped her holding a hand out, "By the way, I'm Nazir and this is Veezara."

"Good to meet you both," she said quickly shaking Nazir's hand and nodding to the Argonian. Nazir gave her a firm grip and one final knowing look before she left. She made to head back the way she came when she caught sight of a young woman with curling white hair and bright green eyes staring right at her from the upper alcove. It was the woman from that dreaded place in the forest, only this time she wasn't naked. Instead, she was dressed head to toe in black leathers. She flashed Rona a playful smirk and then ran back into a room.

Rona felt compelled to follow her and quickly climbed the stairs into what looked like open sleeping quarters with several beds pressed into the alcoves. She saw long white curls whisking through a red-lit doorway and she sprint after the woman. She couldn't explain it but she just had to know who she was. As she rounded into the next room though she barreled right into the hulking Orc man and fell backward hitting the floor on her ass with a loud, "Oof!" She stared up at him mortified as he glowered down at her tiny form.

"Watch where you're going elf," he grunted. Rona just stared up at him. He really was huge. Twice the size of Magrob at least. The man looked like he could easily lift up a carriage and throw it a mile if he really wanted to. She wasn't sure how he managed to fit in the tight black and red leather armor he was wearing. Then she heard the telltale laughter of the jester and yanked her fur wrap up around her face again.

"Did you step in something Garnag? Was it the tiny unchild, perhaps? You finally rolled over and crushed her?" He giggled as he came around the Orc and said, "Oh hooo! It is _not_ the unchild. But it is the teeny, tiny, little elfling. Hmm, yes."

"S-sorry," Rona breathed, hoping the pitch of her voice was high enough that Cicero wouldn't recognize it, although they'd only exchanged a few words briefly the last time they met.

"What are you two doing in here?" The blonde Imperial came into the room and looked down at Rona with the other two, "Oh I see. Knocking over poor helpless women again Garnag, how rude."

"Hey," Garnag snorted and growled back, " _She_ ran into _me_."

Rona pushed herself off the ground and stood up, dusting herself off, "I'm really sorry about that." She lowered her head a bit, hoping with all her heart that Cicero would not recognize her, "I was in a hurry and I'm not used to where anything is in here and got a little lost."

"Maybe try going back the way you came?" Garnag said scathingly. He brushed by her, nearly knocking her over again as he grumbled, "Another fucking idiot, just what this place needed."

"Don't mind Garnag," the Imperial man said, drawing her attention back to him, "He's a bit… on the grumpy side most days."

"That's fine," she said smirking a little as she thought of Bishop, "I'm used to grumpy."

The Imperial grasped her hand then and introduced himself, "I am Pontius, alchemical expert, and poisoner extraordinaire. If you're ever looking to quietly snuff the life out of someone, I am your man," then he gave a regal bow. Somehow he reminded her of Linel, thinking it might have been the because of the softness of his voice.

She pulled her hand from his grasp and said, "You can just call me Jill."

Then Cicero butt in and giggled, "Jill! _Jiiilll! Yeeesss_ , do you know the tale of Jack and Jill? Oh, what a funny story it is," then he started to sing-song, "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water! Jill pushed Jack and broke his neck and cackled madly after! Then Jack did rot and home Jill trot, delighted to see her Brothers. She went to bed to pray again, with thanks to our lovely Night Mother."

Pontius looked on at Cicero with half-lidded eyes and said, "That hardly rhymed at all Cicero," the jester pursed his lips and gave a grumbling pout and Pontius said to Rona, "And now you've met our resident fool and Keeper. Don't mind him. He truly is as mad as he appears."

"How rude!" Cicero snapped, "I am not mad. I am always in the highest of spirits, especially in the company of a neeewww one," his eyes sparkled as he looked her over and then he said, "Maybe _you're_ the Listener!" He clapped his hands together and grabbed Rona's arm and started dragging her towards an enormous sarcophagus set upright in the back of the room, "Come! Come! Let us have you meet Mother! See if she speaks to you! Oh if she does it will be so wonderful! Cicero will be so pleased! For finally the Listener will have returned to us and you are not a nasty, smelly, slimy old lizard either. Oooh yes! That is much better than before."

Rona was gritting her teeth and trying to draw her arm back as he pulled on her, but he was really strong for such a small man. She stopped fighting him though when she saw the woman standing by the sarcophagus. Only a few inches taller than Rona, the woman with the white hair leaned against the coffin and she was playing a lute. It was a beautiful and uniquely design lute, the likes of which Rona had never seen before. But her music made no sound.

She knew then that the woman was in her own mind when she turned to look at Rona for just a moment and flashed her a mischievous smile before vanishing altogether. She was a spirit. One only Rona could see it seemed.

"Well?" Cicero asked looking at her expectantly, "Can you hear her sweet, delicate voice? Is mother whispering her words of murder and death into your ears?"

Rona swallowed and looked at the sarcophagus again. She could feel it. An evil presence within, drawing her forward, pulling her closer. Like a void taking all light within, never to be seen again. She shook her head hard and said, "No. I don't hear anything. I'm sorry." Then she turned right around and quickly made her way out of that room. She found her way back towards the entrance, passing by Arnbjorn who seemed to have calmed some as he worked to sharpen his broadsword. He watched her as she passed by and she swept up the steps looking to get as far away from that place as possible for however long she could.

Niven followed Kisni outside and into the glade. They stopped by the horses and he turned to face the Khajiit woman. She was very beautiful for a Khajiit, with solid black fur all over, save for a few white freckly spots that dusted her cheeks. She said morosely, "I prayed to the Night Mother nearly half a year ago on this. Rasha allowed me to pursue the man myself, to take vengeance by my own hand. He was in Cyrodiil at the time, but he evaded me. He had ties to the Dragonborn herself and was under the Emperor's protection at the time. I wanted to take his life... to make him suffer beneath my scythe..."

"For your sister?" Niven guessed.

Kisni grit her teeth, forcing back her tears, "I told Kasna not to do it. But she _insisted_. She truly believed she could win in the Arena. She was so close," she growled angrily as her ears fell back, "and then _he_ came along... I begged Astrid to let me pursue him here. But she would not have it. Since he is here in Skyrim I have no choice but to forgo my contract to one of you."

"I am sorry Kisni, truly," Niven said sympathetically, "If I could persuade her otherwise..."

"No. I understand. Cicero has not helped our situation either. That blasted fool is going to get us all removed if he keeps it up. Still," Kisni put a paw on his arm and looked him in the eyes, "You are one of the few here that I trust. I know you will see this through, Niven. That you will make sure he takes his last breath upon your lance or by your blade."

She pulled the contract from an envelope and held it out to him, "You are fortunate, for I have already located his whereabouts. Usually, his patterns are erratic and he seeks out the dragons when he's not getting drunk, the idiot," she sneered, "But, right now, he is staying in Riverwood, at the Sleeping Giant. He'll be there for another day or so. He's been waiting for someone it seems. You'd best hurry before he moves on again. You'll want to get him without his wolf as well. I've seen that animal fight and he's a vicious mongrel that's deeply loyal to his master. The wolf won't hesitate to try and maul you so you may want to subdue him first with your magic."

Niven opened the contract and read over the name, "Arrow the Dragonslayer? I've heard of him."

"No, that's just his alias," she said as her lip curled a bit, "His real name is Bishop Thrice-Banished."


	9. Chapter 9 Reunion

**Chapter 9**

 **Reunion**

It was the Nineteenth of Evening Star, the last day he promised he'd stay there. It was already early evening and he was continuing to chase his ongoing hangover with hard liquor. Orgnar just gave grunts of disapproval or annoyance every time Bishop asked for another hit until finally he had enough and slammed the entire bottle of whiskey onto the counter and asked with irritation, "How much longer you plannin' on stayin' here ranger?"

Bishop downed his glass and said, "It's my last night here. I leave in the morning."

" _Good_ ," Orgnar grunted as he went around the counter to serve his few other patrons, "Oh and if you need anything, _don't_ holler for me, 'cause I ain't gonna help you."

Bishop just rolled his red-rimmed eyes, grabbing the bottle and started pouring himself a fresh glass when he said, "This is all I need, Orgnar."

Bishop stared into the bottom of his glass. He really was pathetic, thinking she'd actually show up. Of course she wouldn't. She'd sworn to stay away from him, to keep him safe from the dragons. He sighed and mumbled to himself, "If she only knew just how wrong she was." Karnwyr whined at his feet, sensing his master's distress. He looked down at his most loyal companion and said, "Just one more day buddy. Then we'll get out of here, I promise. I know it's pointless to stay, but... I promised her. And maybe..."

He heard the door open and turned to look back, just as he'd done every night that week. But it was just another traveler, a really tall Altmer from the look of it. He thought it might be Serlas for a minute, but as the man pulled up a chair at one of the tables and lowered his cowl he saw that he was much younger than Serlas. Then he remembered that the old man was up in Winterhold. He'd agreed to take on the role of the College's Arch-Mage since the tragic passing of his good friend and colleague, Savos Aren. He also continued checking in on Septimus Sigmus, in hopes that the man would have some information on the whereabouts of the Elder Scroll.

Bishop turned back to his drink and leaned his elbow onto the counter, pressing his head into his hand. He knew the scroll was somewhere in one of those damned Dwemer Ruins. He'd considered taking the dive into a few of them himself, to try and help Rona, but it was one of the few ways he could track her movements and he didn't want to screw up the pattern, not to mention he'd been inside one of those dreaded places once before and it was not a fond memory. Being nearly burned alive or almost dismembered and attacked by the Falmer were reasons enough to keep him out of those places. It was times like those when he wished he still had the beast blood. With heightened senses, he felt he could easily wipe those places clean, but he wasn't entirely sure how to acquire that gift again without getting mauled by another werewolf. And he didn't even know where to start on finding one.

He groaned and rubbed at his aching head. It was too much to think about and he'd been thinking a lot the last week. He half-considered turning in early for the night and giving up on it all when someone in black robes strode up to the bar and took a seat beside him.

Bishop glanced over and groaned loudly, "Oh please tell me you're a hallucination from my week-long bender." 

Sam Guevenne threw a hand to Bishop's back, patting him hard and said with a cheerful grin, "Afraid not friend. I'm as real as that donkey-piss you've been guzzling since this morning."

"Ugh, fuck," Bishop pressed his face further into his hand, hoping he could rub the vision of the human version of Sanguine out of his eyes.

But the Daedric Prince continued talking making it clear that he really was there, "Why you drinkin' this swill, Bish?" He shook the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, "You're a wealthy man now, should order some of the good stuff."

Bishop laughed into his hand, "Do you _see_ where we are right now?"

Sam looked around drunkenly at his current surroundings and said, "Oh right. Hmm... well alright, let's fix that," he snapped his fingers and the counter was suddenly littered with an assortment of boozes and wines.

Bishop scoffed and shook his head, "Where were you seven nights ago when I first got here?"

"Oh I've been around," Sam grinned at him as he poured himself a glass from one of his own select brands of ambrosia, "Been keeping an eye on you for a while now and I gotta say, Bish, I am _disappointed_."

"Of course you are," Bishop groaned as his head gave a light throb of pain.

"I'm the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, sure, but I'm also the Daedric Prince of _Merriment_ , Bishop, and to be honest, you have not been very merry at all lately."

"And I'm sure you know exactly why," he grumbled as he took another shot from the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He did not trust any of the other bottles on the counter, not after his last experience drinking with Sanguine.

"You know Bish if it makes you feel any better, she really wanted to be here," Sam said with a sympathetic look. 

Bishop looked right at him and hoped that the Daedric Prince wasn't just fucking with him and that he might actually give him real answers, "She did?"

"Mmhm," Sam nodded, "Problem is. Well, she's the Dragonborn and you know, a few things came up that she had to take care of."

"Is she alright?"

"Oh yeah, no, she's fine... well mostly fine. Got a lot on her plate right now, but she's doing pretty good otherwise. Better than you I'd say," Sam laughed.

"Where is she?" Bishop gave a pleading look to the Daedric Prince. It was extremely pathetic of him and on a normal day, he'd never do such a thing, but he was desperate and the ache to see her again was killing him.

Then Sam completely and utterly surprised him when he smiled and said, "Why don't I take you to her? I mean, it won't be _right_ to her, but it'll be in the same town. 'Course it'll be up to you and our good friend Karnwyr here to sniff her out."

Bishop couldn't believe his ears and said, "I think I've had too much to drink."

Sam laughed and said, "Oh, believe me, normally I would disagree, but you definitely have had too much." 

"What's the catch?"

Sam smirked and said, "Here," he handed off a bottle of what looked like wine but Bishop knew better, "That's for when you see her again. You two enjoy that and enjoy yourselves for once. You both need it. It's not as strong as the stuff I usually make, but she'll like it."

Bishop looked over the bottle in his hand, a little unsure whether to trust the Daedric Prince, but he had helped them once before and even saved Karnwyr's life, "Why are you always helping us?"

Sam shrugged, "What can I say? I like you, Bish. You've always been one of my favorites. And when you met that spritely little elf only for her to become the Dragonborn, well, let's just say you got a whole lot more interesting. Watching you go out of your way for your girl... it's nice. Even if it does mean you've put your old friend debauchery behind you." He chuckled then stood up and stepped into an open space in the room. He waved a hand in the air and he was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, turning him back to his usual black and red Daedric looking self. Then he snapped his fingers and a portal opened.

Bishop glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else was seeing what he was seeing. There were only five other people in the bar at that moment, Orgnar was there, of course, then there was the town blacksmith and the local lumberjack, the inn's bard and the stranger from earlier. They all had looks of drunken delight painted on their faces, except for the strange Altmer. He was staring hard at Sanguine and looked like he was fighting whatever spell the Daedric Prince was putting over everyone else.

Sanguine held his claw out to the portal and said, "After you kind ranger."

Bishop grabbed his pack off the floor, stuffed the bottle of wine in it then looked at the portal and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothin'," he exhaled and clicked for Karnwyr to follow. He stepped inside with the wolf following right at his heels and both vanished from sight. Sanguine snapped his fingers again, dispersing the portal then turned his attention to the Altmer who was tightly gripping the armrests of his chair as he watched in near horror as Sanguine approached him. 

The Daedric Prince said, "Wow, you're a lot stronger than you look, Niven. You know, I don't usually go out of my way to step on the old Dread Father's toes, but he's a special case," he said thumbing a claw back to where the portal vanished, "If I were you I'd skip this one."

"What are you?" Niven breathed through grit teeth as he fought the overwhelming feeling of drunkenness that was overtaking his mind. The room started to spin and he blinked several times, trying to make it stop. He'd only met a creature like this once before in his life and he'd gotten a pair of Daedric daggers as a prize for killing it. But the Dremora he'd faced off against nearly a decade ago was nothing like this creature.

"That's really not important, Niven, what is important is that you leave the pathetic ranger and his mutt alone from here on out. There's a certain someone out there who's rather attached to him and we're sort of counting on her to save the world right now. Your world in fact."

"The Dragonborn," he gleaned as his stomach turned over like he'd drank far too much Firebrand wine far too fast.

"Yes, yes, the Dragonborn," Sanguine waved a claw nonchalantly in reply.

"That means the Listener is still out there then."

Sanguine pursed his lips realizing his slip and said, "You know, this is why I never talk to you mortals. You just have to go and ruin the fun with all your little questions and presumptions and I'm really not in a good state of mind for that most of the time. Liquor leaves me with loose lips you know."

The Daedric Prince loomed over Niven and looked him right in the eyes, "Stay away from the ranger assassin... he's under _my_ personal protection."

Niven took a sharp breath as he glared back at the Dremora-like creature, letting his right hand slowly fall to the sharp end of one of his daggers. "And who might that be?" He asked.

Sanguine's eyes burned red and he glowered, "Always with the damn questions-"

(Background Music _Dark Harbor_ by Two Steps From Hell)

Niven spoke an incantation swiftly as he sliced his wrist open, " _Veni ad Patrem solibus dirus ferum fructum vitae._ "

"Shit!" Sanguine leapt backward as black blood dripped from Niven's open wound and an enormous Black Hand formed on the floor like a shadow. The Altmer grit his teeth with the pain of the mark on his chest growing that much faster, spreading and threatening to overtake him. It was definitely a risk summoning a Gravelord so directly, he'd only ever done it once before, against that other Dremora ten years ago, but he had to. He was not equipped to fight creatures of Oblivion like this one, not when they had the power to addle his mind like that.

From the enormous shadow of the hand came forth an appalling creature. It rose up out of the dark mark on the floor, hulking and huge, a true wraith from the Dread Father. Its body was made from the skeletons of the dead and it wore an enormous black cloak that covered most of the bones and skulls adorning its strange body, looking like a large pack on its back as the skeletal forms protruded from the cloth. It held a giant scythe in its bony clutches and hovered over the ground, looming over everyone in the room which seemed so much smaller in its presence.

Sanguine chuckled anxiously at the thing and said to Niven, "I see you've been taking to the books. Not a lot of your people remember how to call on the Gravelords nor are they willing to risk it."

Then the creature hissed loudly, its voice ethereal and echoing like a thousand pained voices moaning in death, " _Sanguine_... _you would interfere with the Dread Father's work?_ "

The Daedric Prince held his head high and all playful pretenses were dropped immediately as he looked far more serious than before. "The ranger is mine," he said adamantly, "He's under my protection, in fact, he's been mine since the beginning. Your Master knows this."

" _All souls belong to the Void. There are no exceptions_ ," the Gravelord wailed.

"Not this one," Sanguine looked fiercely at the creature and held a hand out, forming a bright red, electrically charged form of energy within his palm, "Now, let me send you back to Sithis with that in mind."

He thrust his hand out, firing the explosive energy at the Gravelord, engulfing the entire room in a thick cloud of red smoke forcing dishes to fly from the tables and shatter everywhere. The few patrons in the tavern fell over, still in their own drunken stupor and Niven held his arms out, covering his face. After a moment, when the dust started to clear he looked through the red haze but the two creatures of Oblivion were gone.

Niven quickly gripped a healing hand to his wrist, sealing the wound and stumbled out of the tavern, feeling ill. He rushed over to the river, fell to his knees in the grass and vomited his guts out like he really had drunk too much. 

He caught his breath and rubbed his mouth on a sleeve. So Sanguine was protecting the ranger. "This is going to be more difficult than I expected," he murmured to himself.

He rubbed a hand to his aching chest and yanked his blue tunic down and pulled open his leathers there, looking underneath at the skin of his chest. It was nearly solid black now with dozens of small black hands bursting and writhing from the mark. He was in danger now. Summoning a Gravelord had taken too much from him. He had to fulfill a contract kill soon. Fortunately, his next nearest one was in Whiterun.

He pulled himself together, fixed his clothes and turned back to the inn heading for his stallion. The ranger would have to wait for now. Kisni would be disappointed but he would just lie, tell her he'd already moved on. Still, the Dragonborn was alive, which meant the Listener was out there somewhere. This was good news as far as he was concerned. It was only a matter of time before they found her and then it would be easier to track the ranger's movements with her help.

He climbed his steed, guided him towards the path and kicked off, heading swiftly for Whiterun.

Rona woke up in the back of a carriage just as it arrived in Morthal late that evening while a hard snowfall was steadily threatening to become a blizzard. It was the twentieth of Evening Star. The day after the last day Bishop promised he'd wait for her in Riverwood. She'd had a chance to stop and see him on that last day but decided against it, worried that she wouldn't want to leave him while the Black Hand continued to grow on her arm. And she was right to be concerned about that because the mark had grown significantly in the last two days of travel, already reaching up to her shoulder. She could feel it gripping her and knew that she needed to stem it soon.

She wasn't looking forward to what she would have to do but resolved to finish the job quickly. Then from there, she would make her way to the Ruins of Mzinchaleft and finally take the plunge within.

As the carriage came to a stop in the sleepy town the driver looked back and said over the harsh wind, "You awake, Miss? We're here."

Rona sat up and dusted the snow off herself. Then as she went to collect her pack from the other side of the bench her hand grazed across something at her hip. She tensed up and her eyes widened. She looked down at the Razor firmly hilted to the leathers on her side and stifled the scream rising in her throat.

 _How!?_ She couldn't believe it. She'd completely bypassed Rorikstead on her way there, paying the driver to continue on through the night just so she could avoid the blade that she'd left at the inn there. And Niven was nowhere nearby. So he hadn't broken into her room that night.

The Daedric Artifact was _finding_ her, or perhaps it was Mehrunes doing himself, tormenting her by sending it to her. She clenched her fists hatefully. Why was she ever tempted to take that thing in the first place? And now she couldn't seem to escape it. Still... she loosened her fists and touched the hilt of the Razor. With its enchantment, she might be able to better kill her marks. Maybe it was for the best... 

She grabbed her pack and hopped out of the carriage, following closely at the heels of the driver, both heading for the inn and seeking shelter from the heavy snowfall. She'd rent a room and get something to eat first then late at night when the Orc was fast asleep she'd slit his throat and flee. It was really her only option at that point.

Rona stepped inside and found the inn totally vacant as usual, save for both Lurbuk and Jonna and the carriage driver who quickly found a seat by the hearth where he started warming his hands.

The proprietor called over to her, "Hey Jill! I missed you leaving the other day, where'd you head off to so early?"

Rona walked up to the bar. "Oh, I had a job I had to take care of out in Dawnstar," she lied.

"Mercenary work I hope?" Jonna asked as she started pouring her a glass of wine.

"Yeah. Just some bandits that were giving a few of the townsfolk grief."

"Well I'm glad to hear it," Jonna said passing her the glass, "It's nice to see you sticking to honest work."

Rona smiled feebly in reply as she picked up the glass of wine and took a sip.

"So what can I get you? Hungry? Tired?"

"I'll take a room and whatever's hot out of the oven," Rona said as she headed for a table near the bard, "I have some paperwork I need to look over though, so I'm just going to sit over here and peruse through it, if that's alright with you."

"Sure thing hun," Jonna said as she disappeared down into the cellar.

Rona set her pack down and pulled her legs over the bench. She took the contract out of her pocket and unfolded it, looking it over. There were no special instructions for killing the poor Orc, only that it needed to be done. She really did feel bad for Lurbuk. He was nice enough, even if he couldn't sing. She glanced over at him. He was seated in one of the chairs in the back of the room going over what looked like some sheet music while he idly plucked much too hard at the strings of his lute. He could barely even play an instrument well. It really was pathetic.

Jonna came over then and Rona quickly stuffed the contract back into her pocket as the Redguard woman served her a hot meat pie. "Thanks, Jonna," Rona said smiling kindly at the woman. 

"You're very welcome, Jill! Just let me know if you need anything else tonight, alright?"

"Sure thing," Rona started to dig into her food and just as Jonna walked away she heard the door open behind her and the loud grunts of a very disgruntled man as he stepped in out of the cold.

The sound of his voice though stilled her heart, "Fuck! It's a damn blizzard out there!"

"Back already, ranger? Any luck?" Jonna called from the bar.

He scoffed loudly as he stomped the snow off his boots near the door and said, "None at all. What about you? Any sign of her?"

Jonna laughed and said, "I think I'd remember a little elfling with pink hair and bright green eyes."

"I already told you, that's just one way she looks. I'm pretty sure she's changed her appearance, she has magic to do that." Rona heard the sound of a stool at the bar scrape against the floor as he took a seat. Then she felt the wet nuzzling nose of a certain wolf and glanced down at Karnwyr who was sniffing happily at her feet under the table and wagging his tail. He started to whine and Rona whispered, "Karnwyr... shh." She quickly mumbled out an incantation to pacify and touched Karnwyr on the nose with it, trying to calm him, but she only seemed to make him dead tired as he slumped down at her feet.

Jonna noticed and said, "Hey, mind wrangling your wolf? He's bothering my other patrons."

"Huh?"

Rona heard the stool shift again as Bishop turned back and she lowered her head a bit, allowing the hood of her fur wrap to fall a little more over her face, glad that she hadn't lowered it earlier. Bishop whistled and said, "Karnwyr, c'mere. Quit begging for food, you just ate."

But being pacified the wolf merely looked back at Bishop with groggy eyes and his tongue lolling stupidly from his mouth. Then she heard his footsteps as he came over muttering, "The hell is wrong with you boy? You that cold?"

To her right the Orc started playing on his lute and began singing the song, _'The Dragonborn Comes_ ' loudly and completely off-key. Rona started to panic as Bishop was standing right next to her and he leaned over the bench, reaching under the table for Karnwyr as he said, "Sorry about that, he's not usually like this."

Her heart was thudding hard in her chest as she turned her head away from him. It was now or never. She had to kill the Orc and run before Bishop got a hold of her and... and... and she honestly didn't know what.

She grasped at her pack on the floor and gripped the Razor on her hip. With Bishop still fumbling for Karnwyr, she leapt off the bench and ran right up to Lurbuk and slashed him deeply across the throat with all the fury burning in her blade.

She heard Jonna shriek at the top of her lungs and Bishop shouting, "WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Then she burst out the door into the blizzard and bolted, aiming for her little cottage up north. A gift from saving the town from vampires. She could hide out there for the night until the blizzard died out. But as she ran through the frozen over swamps she heard Bishop shouting for her, "GET BACK HERE! KARNWYR SICK 'EM!" Then his angry roaring sputtered as he questioned loudly, "Karnwyr!? The fuck is wrong with you!? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?"

She practically skittered across the ice, trying to evade him. She refused to shout, not wanting him to know it was her. She couldn't bear for him to know what she'd just done right in front of him.

She barreled through the marshes hoping to put some distance between them. But then she slipped on an ice-formed puddle of the marsh. She fell forward, sliding on her knees a bit and quickly pushed herself up and darted forward again as her hood fell back setting her long, wild hair billowing behind her.

Bishop was right on her heels snarling, "NOBODY TOUCHES MY WOLF!" She felt a painful yank on her head as Bishop caught a hold of a bundle of her hair and she yelped in pain. She had to get away, she had to escape!

In one swift motion, she took her blade in hand and spun on the spot, cutting her long hair short. This, however, had the effect of breaking the color enchantment she had on it and as she slowly spun about, her eyes met his and they both watched as the hair on her head and the bundle of it in his hand changed from the white-blonde shade back to its original rosy hue. He stared at her stunned and breathed, " _Rona?_ "

She swallowed hard and then opened her mouth to shout and he cried, "Wait! No no no no - _DON'T!_ "

(The Song is _Frozen_ by Voyage)

But it was too late, she shouted, "TIID KLO UL!" Freezing time and making everything come to a near halt. She watched as Bishop's free hand reached out for her and the pained expression on his face cut her deep inside. She hated herself more than ever, but she knew she couldn't stay.

She turned away from him and marched across the marshes aiming for her house on the hill all while her tears streamed steadily from her eyes. She wasn't sure how far she was from him when Jillian shimmered into being beside her and started to strum her lute. Then another appeared, the young woman with the long curling white hair. Only this time it was tied up into a messy bun. Both of them followed her staying close by her side. Keeping her company perhaps.

Rona soon found herself near the shack she'd been dragged to by the Brotherhood several nights before and she stopped there, trying to catch her breath. Then Jillian started to sing and the other woman joined her and Rona cried even harder at the truth in their words.

 _"_ _Never look back 'cause it hurts.  
My heart is so cold  
I feel the frost,  
Never look back.  
I feel the darkness on my shoulder,  
The frost is in my heart.  
So cold my hair is frozen,  
Touching my skin, my flesh._

 _Sometimes I regret what I had to do,  
'Cause our love was somehow true.  
But I had to leave you,  
For the sake of the moods."_

"Stop," she sobbed, "He'll hear you! Just stop!"

But she knew they wouldn't. It wasn't their doing, it was hers. Her pain was revealing itself through them, these strange ancient Dragonborn. They were always following her, always guiding her. Only they knew her pain, for they too had lived it once before.

She heard Bishop running through the marshes and calling out for her and she quickly cast invisibility over herself and ducked behind the shack.

" _Rona please!_ " His voice cut through the air with such agony as he begged and pleaded, "Please just _listen_ to me!" She heard a sob come from him as he roared, "I just want to see you!" Then he lashed out angrily from his helplessness, "Is that it then!? Are you really so frozen inside that you'd leave me again!? THEN TELL ME TO MY FACE! TELL ME YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE! I NEED TO HEAR IT FROM YOU DAMN IT!"

She pressed her face into her hands and stifled her crying as the two women sang her pain.

 _"Frozen tears turn into my skin.  
Frozen memories of you.  
Sometimes I see your face,  
As pure as you are mine._

 _I feel the darkness on my shoulder,  
The frost is in my heart.  
So cold my hair is frozen,  
Touching my skin, my flesh.  
Never look back 'cause it hurts.  
My heart is so cold  
I feel the frost,  
Never look back."_

(The Song is _Frozen_ by Within Temptation)

She was shaken from her grief then as the sounds of a dragon roared loudly around them. Rona peered through the blizzard but couldn't see a damn thing through the blistering white fog. Then she felt the ground shudder under her feet and knew it had landed somewhere nearby. The furious snarling coming from Bishop and the loud barking of Karnwyr told her exactly where it was.

Jillian drew her glinting greatsword from her back and ran into the fray while the other woman pulled a pair of blue Stalhrim daggers from her sides. The white-haired girl flashed Rona that mischievous grin of hers, inviting her to join her with her smile before kicking off the ground and bolting for the beast.

Rona steeled herself and drew her own duel blades from her back. She looked to the sky and shouted, "LOK VAH KOOR!"

The blizzard came to an abrupt halt as her voice split the thick clouds above, revealing, to her horror, Bishop, as he bravely faced down a Frost dragon. He held an ebony shield out and had a sword drawn as it roared a blast of ice at him. He stood his ground though and with Karnwyr at his side shouted, "ATTACK!"

The wolf skittered over the ice and lunged at the dragon which snapped back at him. Karnwyr dodged the dragon's maw and darted under its body giving Bishop a chance to run forward and swipe at its face with his blade. He caught it expertly in the eye and it thrust its head back in pain.

Rona released her power to the sky, singing with all the power in her voice as she joined her two female comrades in facing down the beast. She tried to summon her fire, to bring forth the wall of flames that would cause the most damage to this particular dragon, but they would not come.

So instead she shouted, "FUS RO DAH!" Sending the dragon rolling across the ice before it had a chance to shout another frost breath against Bishop. She stopped beside him then as they watched it roll and she said, "Get out of here."

"Not a _fucking_ chance," he snarled back.

She looked up into his burning amber eyes and he met her gaze, standing resolute and ready to fight with her.

"We need to kill it fast then," she said as she ran forward, looking to plunge her blades into its body before it could regain its bearings.

Bishop kept pace with her, sheathing his blade and drawing his bow. He started to pelt the dragon with arrows while Rona joined the other two women at her side. The white-haired woman was running almost as fast Kitaere could. She sprint across the ice and performed some wild acrobatics before slamming her daggers hard into the hide of the Frost dragon. It let out another deafening roar just as Jillian and Rona both plunged their own blades into its guts. Then it twisted its head furiously and hissed out a flurry of ice right at them. The ice caught Rona in the leg just as Bishop darted in front of her with his shield held out, taking the brunt of it.

The dragon flapped its wings harshly and took off but the white-haired woman was still clinging to the beast, with her daggers buried in its side. It did several barrel rolls through the sky, trying to throw her off as she began using her knives to climb it, yanking one out and slamming it in higher on its body to move forward. She did this multiple times until she managed to get onto its back.

They were out of sight for a moment, too high to keep track of, until the beast came plummeting downward right where they were standing. Rona grabbed a hold of Bishop by the waist and shouted, "WULD NAH KEST!" Sending them both careening across the snow-strewn ground just as the dragon smashed into the marshes, shattering the ice and sinking into the muddy water. The white-haired woman's hair came undone and fell around her shoulders in soft wisps as she yanked her daggers free from the dragon's skull.

She wiped at the sweat on her brow and flashed Rona a friendly smile before vanishing in a pillar of lavender fire. Jillian too nodded to her and vanished in her own blue flames. The dragon's body burned up and Rona devoured its soul as always.

She sat there for a moment, taking in everything that just happened as Karnwyr came over and started to lick at her face, so happy to see her. She laughed a little as she scratched behind his ears in his favorite spot and said, "It's good to see you too Karnwyr."

Bishop was sitting beside her too, just staring at her, like he wasn't sure what to do now that she wasn't running away. But her attention was suddenly brought to the pain in her leg. She grit her teeth gripped it as a biting cold coursed through her. It was Dragon's Frost and it was bad.

"You're hurt," Bishop said as he moved closer and leaned over her, "Show me."

Rona knit her brows together and removed her right boot revealing the mottled black and purple frostbitten flesh on her foot. She yanked her pant leg up a bit, revealing even more of the wound. She could feel it running all the way up her thigh and she was really worried then.

"Dragon's Frost," he said, "This is good, you can heal it."

Rona gave him a pained look and said, "I... I might not be able to."

"What do you mean?" He asked shaking his head in disbelief, "You have the power to heal this frostbite. So just do it, heal yourself."

Rona looked at the wound on her leg and held her hands out to it. She tried to summon her fire, which flickered in and out until going out entirely. Her tears were streaming again when she threw her hands to her face and cried, "You were right! I really am frozen inside. I can't even use my fire anymore, Bishop."

(Background Music _All's Well_ by Jeremy Soule)

She felt his strong arms wrap around her shoulders then, holding her tightly, giving her comfort as he whispered, "Then let me warm your frozen heart, Rona." He scooped her up off the ground holding her close to his body as he once did so many times before to her annoyance. She welcomed it now and buried her face into his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Just up the hill there," she said, "There's a cottage..."

He chuckled and shook his head, "Another home of yours, Ladyship?"

She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin at the sound of his most fond pet name for her. "I'm Thane of Morthal," she explained.

"Of course you are," he said still smiling as he walked along, hiking through the snow as he carried her with Karnwyr following close behind. He didn't have to walk long before arriving at the quiet little cottage. There wasn't much there because Rona had rarely if ever used the place except as an occasional stop off point to rest. She fished around her pockets and found the key. Bishop stood in front of the door, still holding her as she unlocked it and let them all inside.

It was a single room cottage with a small kitchen pressed to the back corner and a large bathing tub set against the wall near the hearth. There was a large bed in the center wall nearest to the door and a small dining table in one corner with two chairs. Karnwyr seemed happy to be out of the cold and shook off his damp fur before settling down on a rug in the middle of the floor. Bishop kicked the door shut and immediately stepped towards the bed, setting Rona down on it to let her rest.

He looked around and said, "I'll get a fire started, you should probably get changed into something more comfortable and we'll see about healing your wound. I've got plenty of Qetesh's Best which is always worth a shot. At the very least it'll help with the pain."

Bishop went about starting a fire then and busying himself with household tasks. He seemed extremely fidgety however and his eyes kept darting back to her like she was going to disappear if he didn't keep his eyes on her. He was kneeling by the hearth, swiping flint on a stone and kept looking back when she finally said, "Bishop," he stopped what he was doing and looked back at her again. "I promise I'm not going anywhere. Not right now. Please trust me."

He turned away from her and with a harsh motion he managed to start the fire and said, "Can you blame me? You left me on a mountain Rona right after I..." he trailed off and she felt her heart twist in her chest. She'd really hurt him. Of course, he was still angry. She'd hoped that he wouldn't be after all that time, but here he was, thinking she didn't even love him anymore. 

She started to busy herself as well, undressing from her leathers down to her underwear. It was all she could do to keep herself from bursting into tears again. She shucked her armor off and clutched at the short wisps of her hair, remembering she'd cut it off earlier. She used her magic to lengthen the strands back down to a shoulder-length deciding against long hair again. She looked over the Black Hand on her arm. It had receded significantly, going back down to a mere few fingers pressed at her wrist. A gift of life from Lurbuk the worst bard in all of Skyrim.

As the fire started to roar and warm the room Bishop got up and turned around, aiming for the kitchen and stopped in his tracks at the sight of her nearly naked form. Granted her leg was almost entirely black with frostbite and she had a feeling she looked like a dirty, sweaty mess, but even so, his breath hitched in his throat and she started to blush from his hard staring. 

"Bishop," her voice broke him from his trance and he blinked, "do you think you can get one of the dresses out of the dresser for me? I don't think I can walk on this leg."

"Right, sure," he said quickly as he strode across the small room and started rifling through the drawers.

"Bottom drawer," she said smirking a little at his haphazard search. He yanked it open and pulled out a soft yellow day dress. He brought it over to her and she pulled it on, covering herself.

Bishop looked at her leg, dismayed and asked, "You can't heal it?"

"I'll try again. If I focus hard enough I can usually summon my fire. It's just lately... it's been near impossible. Even when I try to shout fire it does almost nothing."

Bishop said nothing to this. They both knew why it was. Her powers had always been deeply connected to her emotions and without him in her life her heart had become so cold. She really was becoming like Jillian of Heart Frost.

She held her hands out to her leg again and took a deep breath, reminding herself that she wasn't alone anymore. He was here, right here with her, watching over her, and keeping her safe and warm like always. Rona smiled and said, "I'm going to be so tired after I do this. I might pass out."

He sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand into his, letting their fingers weave together. "I'll watch over you while you rest then. I won't let anything happen to you, Sweetness."

She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, trying so hard not to cry. Even after everything he still loved her. She gripped his hand into hers and said, "Thank you."

Then she reluctantly pulled her grasp from his and held her hands out again, willing her fires to burn. Her golden flames burst from her palms, brighter than they had in a long time and she breathed out a laugh. She let the fire touch the frostbite and it burned like fire to oil as her energy was completely sapped from her. She fell back onto a pillow and looked up at Bishop sleepily. He smiled at her and leaned in, kissing her cheek and whispered, "Get some rest, Princess. I'll be right here."

She smiled back at him and let herself drift off, ready to truly rest in a peaceful, dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.

Bishop looked over her sleeping form, taking in the moment for what it was. She seemed so tired, not even just then, from healing herself, but before when he first caught hold of her. She was so weary and broken. He knew he had to convince her to stay with him. She couldn't keep doing this to herself.

He pulled a blanket up over her, tucking her into the bed tightly, as though that would keep her there while he went about cobbling together some semblance of comfort in that tiny cottage.

He looked around for a minute and caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror. He cringed at his own appearance. It'd been a long time since he'd indulged in his own self-care, where back then he kept up his appearances for her sake and his own comfort, now he'd let himself turn into a bedraggled looking mountain man with a dirty, wiry beard that would rival the Greybeards themselves. His eyes were sunk in and dark from how tired he was and a bit red from the excessive drinking he'd been indulging in. His hair was long too, so long, in fact, he'd had to tie it back and he hated having long hair.

First things first. He had to clean himself up. So Bishop set to work, putting a fire on under the bathtub before grabbing a large pail from the kitchen. He went outside and started to collect bucketfuls of clean snow and brought it in, dumping it into the bathtub. He did this quite a few times until he was satisfied with how full it was. It would take a while for the snow to melt entirely so he started prepping a dinner for the both of them, pulling what little he had from his pack and taking some old ingredients from the kitchen to work with. He had to cut off plenty of bits sprouting from the potatoes she had there and some moldier parts on the carrots and cabbages, but fortunately, the freezing cold seemed to have preserved everything for the most part. He was grateful that he had a few cuts of fresh meat in his pack from a hunt he went on the other day with Karnwyr.

He worked at cutting everything up and glanced back at her again. He still couldn't believe that Sanguine had reunited him with her but he was extremely grateful. He remembered the bottle of wine the Daedric Prince had offered him and chuckled. It looked like they'd have to drink it now, in thanks.

After he collected some fresh water from the tub in a large pot he set it on the stove to boil and scooped some more melted snow from the tub into the pail. He went over to the dresser, setting it down with a light splash and ran his fingers through the hair on his face. He took his dagger from its sheath and started to carefully shave away the bush on his face, getting as close to the skin as possible. He knew his face was somewhere under that mess and he imagined she'd like to see it.

He spent a good hour grooming himself, smoothing his face down and cutting his mop of hair back to its short length before undressing and settling in the bath to wash the filth from his body. He leaned back in the tub and looked over at Rona who was still steadily snoozing away. He watched her for a while, strange as it was, but he couldn't help it. It was like he was in a dream. He couldn't believe she was really there and he kept having to check and make sure she was real.

He knew it was real and he was feeling a strange mixture of emotions. He was happy that she was there with him now but still felt angry over how she left things. But most of all, he was afraid. She would leave him again, he just knew it and all he could do was try to bring her some joy and comfort while he was with her, even though at the same time he wanted to scream and yell at her, to make her understand what she'd done to him. Her leaving him was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, even worse than dragon's fire. 

He thud his head against the back of the tub and groaned, "Don't chase her away Bish... Just... keep that shit to yourself."

He finished washing up, using soap and even a hated bottle of hair tonic he'd found sitting nearby to clean his hair. He dried off and set to work fixing a feast for her. After another hour or so, just as he finished setting their tiny table she roused from her sleep and sat up, rubbing her eye.

He set the last piece of silverware neatly in its spot next to her plate and went over to her, taking a seat beside her on the bed. She looked at him, blinking a few times and that sweet smile he loved spread across her face. She pressed a hand to his freshly shaven cheek and laughed, "Wow, how long was I out for?"

He smirked, "About three hours or so."

"Your face... you cleaned up?"

He chuckled leaning into her hand a bit, "Yeah, it'd been a while since I groomed myself. Thought you'd like to remember what I actually look like under all the hair."

"I kind of liked the beard," she teased.

"Ugh, seriously? Guess I'll have to grow that itchy thing out again for yah."

She just kept smiling at him and he felt his heart aching for her. Before he knew it he was running a hand over her back and pulling her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat as he murmured, "I love you so much, Rona. I've missed you." 

Then he pressed his lips to hers, taking a sweet kiss from her. He started out pecking at her lips, before feeling her lean further into his grasp more and then he really kissed her. Crushing his mouth to hers like his life depended on it and slid his tongue inside to tangle it with hers. She tasted so much better than he remembered. They pulled at each other's lips, breathing hard and fast against one another, while his hands roamed all over her body, grabbing at her rear and stroking her breasts through the fabric of her clothes. She didn't pull away once, in fact, she grabbed him hard by the shoulders and pulled him back down with her onto the bed. 

He loomed over her for just a moment, looking over her beautiful flushed red face and her hooded eyes, dark with arousal. He couldn't wait a minute longer and dove back into her, kissing her hard on the mouth again before slowly making his way down, kissing and caressing the edge of her jaw and down into the nape of her neck while she released the most beautiful music to his ears, the sounds of her moaning heavily from his touch.

But when she whispered to him, holding back a sob, "Bishop, I love you so much. Can you ever forgive me?" 

He broke. His tears came in waves and he clutched tightly to her, burying his face into her sweet smelling skin. The words wouldn't come to him, only the emotions, all the overwhelming feelings he'd kept bottled inside for half a year. All his fears and worries and sorrows. He released them in deeply pained sobs and she let him, all while holding him tightly in her arms as her own tears silently trailed her cheeks. They were together at last and Bishop prayed it would never end.


	10. Chapter 10 Confessions

**Chapter 10**

 **Confessions**

(Background music _Prendimi_ by MattiaCupelli)

It was so surreal to her. Here she was, unexpectedly reunited with the love of her life while he sobbed in her arms almost worse than the time he told her about his sordid past. She'd imagined their reunion for so long and in so many different ways but this was too soon and too sad. She'd always thought it would be after she completed her journey after she defeated Alduin in some great heroic battle of the ages. Then she'd return bloodied but victorious and she'd run into his arms and they would carry on with their lives together, free from her cruel destiny forevermore. 

But this... this was not what she expected. How had he found her? How had he made it from Riverwood to Morthal so quickly? He'd promised to be in Riverwood at least until the day before and it was at least a two-day trip from Riverwood to Morthal. Perhaps he'd given up early and left to search for her again. She could hardly blame the man. She'd failed to show up there at all, despite how much she'd wanted to.

She felt him trembling in her arms, shaking and sobbing like never before and her heart ached painfully. She sniffled, wiping at her own tears and held him in her arms. She didn't want to think about how much she'd hurt him, but seeing him like that now, she knew she'd hurt him deeply.

Rona stroked his hair and tried to soothe him, "It-it's okay, Bishop..."

Then he looked up at her, his face cringed sharply together with his anguish and he pulled back from her and shook his head, his voice breaking with anger, "No. No, it's not okay. None of it's okay," he threw a hand to his chest and roared, " _I'm_ not okay."

She knit her brows together and her lower lip trembled as she held back her own sobs. He took a sharp breath, "How could you do that to me? How could _leave_ me like that?"

She just stared at him, wordless. She didn't know what to say and he wasn't finished talking anyways. "That was _heartless_ what you did. It was _cruel!_ Do you have any idea what that did to me? Do you know how long it took me to work up the courage to ask you that? To find the right words? I put myself out there for you because I love you. I gave you my heart, my soul... _everything_. I asked you to _marry me_ ," he shook and stood up, clenching his fists, "And you said no. No explanation, no nothing. And then you left, just like that. Like - like none of it mattered! Like _I_ didn't matter-"

"That's not true-" she tried to defend herself but he cut her short.

"No, let me finish... fuck," he rubbed a hand to his head and groaned, "I swore I wouldn't do this. That I wouldn't chase you away again with all of this, but you need to know what you did to me. What you did to your _father_ ," he spoke with so much disgust in his voice as he started pacing back in forth, nearly kicking Karnwyr, who huffed, got up and moved over to the fire.

"I've only ever seen that man cry twice in my life," he continued, "The first was when you almost died after Thorn took you. The second time was when Illia came back from Falkreath with the bad news. Word was the Dragonborn was dead. Serlas hit the floor so hard that I thought his heart gave out, Rona," she threw a hand to her mouth and winced at this revelation, "And when he came to... _gods_... I've never seen an old man cry like that before. It broke him. He just curled up in a ball and sobbed like... ugh... I _never_ want to see that again."

He took a deep breath and stopped his pacing, looking right at her and snapped, "And you know what I did? I _convinced_ him that you were alive out there and that I'd fucking find you and bring you back to him, without even really knowing if you were myself. It took all my willpower not to break down and cry with him, to just believe that you were gone and we'd never see you again or find your body or have _any_ kind of closure."

He glared at her, angry tears in his eyes and she just looked back, ashamed of herself with her own tears streaming heavily upon her cheeks.

"You said you left because you wanted to protect me from the dragons. Well, do you know what I've been doing to try and find you?" She blinked and tried to speak, but her tongue felt thick in her mouth. He said, "I've been fighting and killing dragons all over Skyrim."

Her mouth dropped open and she said, "No."

"Yes," he affirmed, "I did it because I knew it was one of the only ways to find you." He held his fingers up, "Three times now it worked. After killing fifty or more of those bastards, three of them burned up and I was able to track you. The first one was just outside Whiterun and it led me to Shearpoint Mountain. The second was out by Karthwasten and it took me to Dragontooth Crater and the last… that one was near Riften. I know you've been hiding out there with the Thieves Guild."

She couldn't believe her ears. All of it had been meaningless? All this time he'd been fighting the dragons anyway and putting himself in harm's way just to find her? She was furious, she was _livid_. Her anger boiled over, matching his own and she stood up suddenly, clenching her fists and screamed, "NO! Don't tell me that! Don't you _dare_ tell me it's all been for nothing! I did it to protect you, Bishop! To save you from them!"

"Well, it's been pointless because you should have known from the start that _nothing_ would stop me from trying to find you."

She moved forward and hit her fists furiously on his chest screaming, " _How could you!? How could you make it all worthless!?_ "

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LEFT!" He bellowed back, grabbing her wrists to stop her from hitting him.

"I WATCHED YOU DIE! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!? TELL ME YOU WOULDN'T HAVE DONE THE SAME!"

They both stopped chests heaving, and stared crossly at each other for a moment. Finally, she choked out, "Tell me you wouldn't have done the same. If you were me and you watched me die like that... what would you have done, Bishop? Would you have stayed knowing you were putting my life at risk?"

The creeping realization seemed to set in for him as his expression softened from one of anger to one of sympathy. He let go of her wrists and put his hands on her shoulders, running one up the side of her neck to cup her face. He wiped at the trail of tears on her cheek with the pad of his thumb and knit his brows together. "You're right. I would have left. I would do anything to keep you safe."

She sniffled again and grasped at his waist, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. He held her close to him, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, kissing her and said, "But tell _me_ you wouldn't have done the same if I'd left you. That you wouldn't have searched for me."

She gripped him tighter and started to cry harder against him. He was right. She would have searched the ends of Nirn for that man if he'd done the same to her. Nothing would have stopped her, not even the dragons.

His hand fell from curling gently in her hair and he grasped the tip of her chin turning her head up to look at him. He gave her such a loving and meaningful look when he said, "Don't leave me again, Rona. Please don't ever leave me again. You're not alone. You don't have to do this by yourself anymore."

She let out a pathetic and feeble sob in reply and he leaned down, grazing his lips across hers and whispered, "Let me help you forget." He took a hold of her mouth with his and poured all his love and passion into one of his wonderful, breathtaking kisses. She'd forgotten how much she missed his touch. The feel of his strong, calloused hands as they gently stroked at her skin, finding all her sweet spots and making her melt and whimper in his arms. The wonderful musky smell of him; leather, burnt pine, honey mead, and just him under it all. The way his lips felt against hers as the light stubble on his face rubbed coarsely against her, no matter how close he shaved. His tongue, strong and forceful entwining with her own as he invaded her mouth and left the sweet taste of himself there. And his hardness pressing urgently against her hip, eager to take her world of pleasure to new horizons over and over again.

(Background music _Harvest Dawn_ Jeremy Soule)

Although it seemed her stomach had other plans when it growled loudly and they both pulled away for a second, just looking at each other while her face burned red. Then they both burst into laughter and he said, "And here I was trying to be all roguish and charming, but I see you've got other things on your mind!"

Rona rubbed the tears out of her eyes and said through her giggles, "Oh my gods… that's so embarrassing…"

He smiled down at her, still chuckling and pulled her into another hug, "Not to worry Sweetness, I already planned for this. Sit down at the table and allow me to serve you."

She went over and pulled up a chair at the small corner table while Bishop went to work in the tiny cottage kitchen, putting together two plates of hot food. He came back over setting the plate down in front of her and her mouth started watering. "Dinner is served," he said before taking his own seat and picking up a knife and fork, "I hope you like spiced venison because it's all we've got. And uh, hopefully, the vegetables are up to par because I found them in your cupboards and it looks like they've been here for a while."

Rona pursed her lips, "It's been a few months since I've been here."

He chuckled, "Yeah I could tell."

She avoided the cooked vegetables on the plate and instead cut into her slice of meat, taking a bite and savoring it with a low moan. " _Bishooop!_ " She whined.

He smiled and asked, "Yes, Ladyship?"

"I've missed your cooking so much!"

"Ah, it's just one of the many perks of being with me," he said playfully, but the implication of his words hung in the air for a moment while she quietly chewed on her food and he prod at his own piece of venison with his fork.

Finally, she broke the tension and asked, "How has everyone been? How's Ata?"

"He's doing alright," Bishop said, as he tried some of the vegetables taking a bite and immediately frowned at the taste. He reluctantly swallowed it and said, "He's up at the College. He agreed to take on the role of Arch-Mage until they can find a replacement. He stays in touch with me. Sends letters down to Illia where I can pick them up as I'm passing through from time to time. I visited him a couple months ago too. He said he's still trying to get a hold of Septimus, that crazy Elder Scrolls guy." 

"No luck?" Rona asked.

"Not yet. Seems like the man's new obsession is to collect blood for something. I dunno... it all sounded nuts to me. But he's been in and out of that place way out on the ice, Serlas just keeps missing him," then Bishop looked seriously at her and asked, "What about you? Any luck? I found your marks outside the ruins in the Rift."

Rona sighed as she mindlessly prod at a mushy carrot on her plate with a fork, "I dove into another one recently but no scroll. I did find something that might help me locate it though."

Bishop's face lit up, "Really?"

She nodded, "It was some kind of cube... a Dwemer Lexicon. It stored all their vast and ancient knowledge and when I touched it well," she grimaced remembering the pain it had carved into her skull, "all that knowledge went directly into me. The trouble is that I can't understand or read any of the runes because it's all in Dwemeris."

"We should go to the College," Bishop suggested, "I'm sure they'd have something to help translate it," he smiled warmly at her, "We could see your father too and I know he's been worried and missing you."

She sniffled a little, getting emotional again just thinking about that and whispered, "I'd like that."

Bishop put a hand to hers and said, "We'll rest here for the night and leave tomorrow... _together_."

She smiled at him and agreed, "Okay."

Bishop could hardly contain how happy he was, a wide smile perking at the corners of his mouth. But Rona wasn't so sure about any of it. She still had to kill for the Brotherhood in order to keep the Black Hand on her arm at bay and she couldn't fathom bringing Bishop with her to do that. She couldn't even bring herself to tell him about it. She was terrified of him finding out and how it would change the way he looked at her.

He was so happy about her agreeing to go with him too that he seemed to completely forget about what happened at the inn as he talked much more than she'd ever seen him do before. He started chattering away about the Companions, telling her how well Nelkir was doing and even revealing that Freya and Farkas were expecting a child together. She felt a twinge of jealousy hearing about it.

If she weren't the Dragonborn and was just a normal woman she would have said yes to Bishop's proposal six months ago. By then they'd probably be married, happily living their peaceful lives together somewhere, maybe in Skyrim or possibly in Cyrodiil. She might have even been expecting their first child by then too. But she _wasn't_ a normal woman. She was the Dragonborn. Rona wondered if she would ever be afforded the right to live a simple life someday or if she'd forever be plagued by the destiny that had been placed on her shoulders by the gods.

Bishop noticed her glossed over expression and said, "Looks like you're done eating. Here," he picked up her plate, "I'll take care of the dishes if you want to wash up," he nodded to the bath, "I filled it earlier. You'll probably have to heat it up a little again, but it should still be fairly clean."

"Thanks," she said and got up. Bishop cleared the table and started tidying up in the kitchen while Rona put a hand into the water of the bath and heated it, making it bubble a little with her flames spell. She found herself still having trouble getting it to stay hot and not burn out on her. Her emotions were a complete wreck and she was finding herself terrified of seeing her father again. Afraid of the disappointment that would come with him somehow learning about her new ties to the Brotherhood. She'd have to keep her mark hidden.

She looked over at Bishop, whose back was turned to her while he worked at scrubbing the plates in a wash basin. She turned her wrist up and looked at the dark fingers clutching her, slightly moved up from only a few hours ago, although it did seem to have slowed significantly since her last kill.

She quickly disrobed and stepped into the bath, settling into the warm water and started to wash herself with a bar of soap sitting nearby on the floor. She was halfway through washing her hair out when she heard a chair scrape across the floor. Bishop dragged one of the table chairs over and sat in it backwards as he crossed his arms over the back of it. She glanced up at him, realizing he had a perfect view of the tops of her breasts and the rest of her naked body through the soapy water. She started blushing and he chuckled and asked, "Should I uh, give you some privacy?"

She turned her face away and said, "It's been a long time... I guess I'm not used to it anymore."

"Used to what? Me seeing you?"

"Yeah..."

He turned his head upward, grinning and said, "I can leave you be. I wasn't trying to peep. I just... I miss you is all. I like being nearby."

She smiled and met his eyes as he slowly turned to look back down at her. "I miss you too Bishop... I've missed everything about being with you."

"You know what I miss the most?" He asked playfully.

"I'm sure I can guess," she smirked, assuming it would be something lewd.

But he surprised her when he said, "Your beautiful green eyes." She looked at him totally confused before he pointed to his own pair and said, "As much as I love that you uh, chose my color for yourself, I'd love to see yours again."

"Oh!" She'd completely forgotten that her eyes were still golden in color and started blushing. She really had chosen the amber color because of him as a way to keep him a part of her, to always remind herself when she looked in the mirror that it was all for him. She waved a hand over her eyes, dispelling the spell and looked back up at him sheepishly, "Better?"

He sighed, laying his head onto his arms as he said, "Much."

She smiled to herself and went back to washing her hair, quietly enjoying the way he looked at her, knowing what would come next and started looking forward to it. But after a few moments he spoke tentatively, "Rona, I have to ask you something."

She stopped wringing the water out of her hair and looked over at him.

"Back at the inn..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. She held her breath, knowing this was coming. He opened his mouth and said with an awkward chuckle, "I knew you hated that song but um... I never thought you hated it _that_ much."

She turned her face away from him in shame.

But he pressed her, "Rona, talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Why... why did you kill that Orc?"

She swallowed hard and grabbed the edges of the tub, pulling herself up out of the water. She made to climb out of it, but she was shaking all over and nearly slipped. Bishop leapt out of the chair, grabbing her around the waist and shoulders, steadying her, "Hey," he whispered gently, "Ladyship, it's fine. You can talk to me."

"No," she shook her head fiercely, "Not about that. I can't talk about it. I just can't."

He helped her out of the tub and passed her the slightly damp towel he'd used to dry off with earlier. She pulled it around herself and sat down on the bed. Her wet hair stuck to the back of her neck as she clutched at her knees and trembled."Please don't ask me that," she pleaded.

He sat down next to her and put a hand on hers, above her knee and assured her, "We don't have to talk about it right now. There was a time in my life when you had a lot of hard questions for me, but you let me answer them on my own time, when I was ready," she looked up at him knitting her brows tightly together and he smiled warmly at her and gripped her hand into his, "I think it's only right that I do the same for you."

Her tears broke free again and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She didn't deserve him, this kindhearted and understanding man. "After everything, I've done to you, how can you still love me?" She sobbed, "How can you be so good to me? I don't deserve it, Bishop. I'm a terrible person, I've done such horrible things."

He held her close to him and said, "Well that would make me a hypocrite now, wouldn't it? After all the terrible things I've done... and you still love me, right?" 

She looked up at him and said, "I've _never_ stopped loving you, Bishop. I've thought about you every single day since I left, just hoping you were okay and... I - I know what I said in my letter, that you should move on, but I always hoped you wouldn't forget me." 

"Never," he breathed, shaking his head and wiping her tears away, "I could _never_ forget you, Rona. You're the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

(Recommended Background Music _Tonight - Geom Remix_ by Cami)

Her heart was near bursting with love for him, for this perfect, wonderful man. How she'd gone without him for so long, she didn't know. He leaned in and kissed her then, slowly pushing her back down onto the center of the bed. He pulled her hands up, pinning them above her head as he kissed feverishly up and down her neck and across the top of her chest. There was an eager purpose in his motions now. He'd waited long enough it seemed and she was so ready for him too. He grabbed at the towel on her body and tore it off of her, tossing it to the floor, giving him full visual access to her beautiful blushing skin and nakedness. He dove in, burying his face between her breasts as he sucked, nipped and kissed all over her soft mounds and hardening nipples.

He growled low and needy between his nibbling and suckling, "Gods woman, you have _no idea_ how much I've needed this. I've been holding back for _six_ godsdamned months for you. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to claim you now and make you mine."

"Yes," she whimpered under him as she gripped his shoulders, "Yes please Bishop! Take me! Make me yours! I've needed it too..."

Her words ignited a fire in him and he moved with an inflamed passion. He peppered her chest with his kisses before slowly moving down her abdomen, kissing around her navel and murmuring, "Your skin is so soft, Rona. Gods you smell _amazing_."

She merely whimpered and moaned from his touch and his words. She was always at a loss on what to say with him, she could only react in that moment. She watched and felt as he gently kissed her inner thigh, moving that much closer to her aching need until finally he found his prize and stopped to admire her there for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her down there.

She was blushing bright red now, a combination of her arousal and shyness at him looking so closely at her most intimate place. It really had been a long time. She couldn't believe how embarrassed she was from his staring and it only seemed to make her that much wetter when he whispered, "So damn beautiful," and immediately buried his face between her legs. She let out a pleased yelp and threw a hand to her mouth, biting at her finger with the pleasure she felt as he slid his tongue into her and started licking all around her lower lips, nibbling and pulling at them. He stopped for a second as he groaned, "You taste so fucking good, Rona," and she couldn't help but grasp at his head, pressing him back down insistently, not wanting him to stop for anything. He chuckled a bit before setting back to work, moving his teeth and tongue expertly in pleasuring her. When he gripped her hips and bit at her hardened nub though she let out a sharp gasp and then a deep moan as he started to suck her there.

He kept the tease up and slowly started to undress himself, undoing the buckles on his cuirass and tossing it to the floor, then practically ripping his undershirt off himself before adding it to the pile. When he struggled to undo his trousers though, while still working on her, she stroked his cheek and turned his head up to face her and said, "Stand up."

He grinned at her and pulled away, wiping at his mouth and standing at the side of the bed. She sat up and undid the button on his trousers for him before curling her fingers into his waistband and pulled down, sending his pants and underwear trailing down his legs and setting his extremely hard manhood bouncing free.

It was her turn to admire him as she remembered just how big he really was. She felt herself getting even wetter at the sight of his thick cock and heavy hanging testicles. She grasped his shaft with one hand, and cupped his balls with the other, feeling how incredibly hard and full he was and listened to the deep pleasured moan he released from her touch.

"Mmnn... Be careful Ladyship," he warned with a laugh, "I think I might pop at any moment."

She looked up into his dark, hooded eyes and pressed her lips to the tip of him, tasting his steadily streaming precum on her tongue. He gave a soft gasp and curled his fingers into her damp hair just as she moved her head forward, sucking hard on him, taking him all the way into her mouth.

He threw his head back, groaning hard and grunted, "Oh fuck, Rona. That's so good."

She started to steadily bob her head up and down his shaft, running her tongue teasingly under the soft crown of his cock, like she knew he loved and she smiled slightly feeling his hands grasping harder at her hair as his breath hitched in his throat, a sign that she was doing it exactly right. She found a steady speed, gripping the lower half of his shaft with one hand while she clutched at his rear with the other, setting the pace by pulling him forward slightly and letting him piston himself back and forth in her mouth.

She did this until he couldn't stand it any longer and grunted, "Ugh! Okay! Wait!" She pulled off his twitching cock and just smiled up at him mischievously. "You damn minx," he smirked, "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to set me off."

She bit her lip and just giggled and he gently pushed her back down on the bed and growled, "I think it's _my_ turn now." He wrapped his hands around her hips and tugged her right to the edge of the bed and lined his hard member up with her dripping slit. He slowly pressed forward, both gasping as he spread her apart and slid into her. He savored the feeling of her tightness wrapping around him while she enjoyed the sensation of him filling her so full.

(Recommended Background Music _Call Out My Name_ by The Weeknd)

Bishop smirked down at her beautiful blushing face. He really wanted to see her at her most pleasured and was absolutely determined to make her come and make her scream out his name in ecstasy. He let his instincts as a man take over and started to rock his hips, gently sliding himself in and out of her velvety tightness. He knew exactly how to please his woman, arcing his hips just right so that the ridge of his cock would slide and catch perfectly against that sweet spot inside her.

He watched her shudder and moan once, twice, three times as he did it over and over again. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his cock was twitching deep inside her as she pulled and squeezed the life out of him. He tried to stay at a steady pace, to keep in control, but his arousal was getting the better of him. It had been so damn long since he felt such pleasure and watching this beautiful woman, _his_ beautiful woman, lose control beneath him was almost too much. He ran his hands up and down her soft thighs, bringing her legs up high on his chest and planted soft, sweet kisses on her calf as he started to pound harder into her, letting himself lose control for a moment.

He swallowed hard when she really did start to gasp and scream his name, "Bishop! Bishop! _Yes_ , _yes, YES! THERE!_ " He felt his cock throb and immediately slowed his hard bucking the moment he felt his balls tightening, readying to burst their load. He let out a deep, slow exhale, calming himself. He was not ready to let this end just yet and allowed her legs to drop back down around his hips. He wanted to get in much closer to her and pulled out for just a moment, leaving her sighing with disappointment that he'd stopped at all.

He said, "Move back more." Rona immediately complied, centering herself on the middle of the bed and he climbed up, getting on his knees and pushed himself between her thighs. He let the tip of his penis prod her opening a little as he lay down over her, pressing his very firm chest against her soft breasts and placed his arms at either side of her. He looked down at her, as she gazed affectionately back. He truly lived for the smile that spread over her lovely pink lips, but when they parted and she whispered, "Oh Bishop, I love you so much. Please make love to me," he let his heart burst and ache with love for her and then he kissed her deeply and slowly pressed himself back into her.

He felt her delicate hands grasping at his back and she gasped under his mouth as he slid all the way to the hilt, making the tip of his cock meet with the opening to her womb. He was always careful there, knowing it could hurt her, but when she was highly aroused she seemed to love it. The sensation of being so deep within her while her chest rose and fell with her needy panting was nearly enough to send him over the edge again, but he had to finish her first.

He said, "I want you to touch yourself," she whimpered and pushed her hand down. He raised his hips a little, allowing her easy access to her swollen nub and when she found her target and he felt her tightening around him with the pleasure she was giving herself he allowed himself to relax on her again. He began the steady pumping of his hips once more, holding her body tightly against his. He started out slow and built his tempo, matching the movement of her hand as she massaged herself. He made sure to angle himself just right, hitting her sweet spot inside. Her writhing insides gripped him so much faster and she started dripping even more all around him. She was getting close, but so was he.

Their joined back and forth effort as he pound into her and she thrust her hips back against him, both sweating, moaning and gasping together was reaching its crescendo. Finally, Bishop felt the telltale swelling and throbbing of his cock and looked right at her and asked desperately, "Is it safe Rona? Can I come inside?"

She looked at him with those beautiful, sparkling green eyes, almost unsure herself before she cried out needfully, "Come! Come inside me, Bishop! Come! Please! I need it all inside!"

She wrapped her legs tightly around him and dug her nails sharply into his skin as she started moaning loudly, coming all over his cock. Her silky walls were purposely milking him and he couldn't hold it back if he tried. He gave a few final hard thrusts into her body and let out a deafening roar as he pushed himself into her deepest part and felt his cock swell and begin to spurt his heavy load into her, endlessly painting her writhing insides with everything he had. It was relentless. Wave after wave hit him and he gasped out over and over again with each delicious, throbbing release while she moaned, screamed and shook all over with her own powerful orgasm. Her pussy trembled and pulled at his spurting cock over and over again, utterly draining him.

Finally, it was over and he melted on top of her, absolutely breathless and exhausted. He rolled over to the side of her, staying sheathed within, not ready to part from her and he just held her and caressed her face and told her over and over again, "I love you, Rona. Gods I love you... please don't ever leave me again."

She knit her brows together, meeting his gaze and kissed him on the cheek before settling in his embrace and pressed her face to his chest. "I won't leave, Bishop. I love you too."

He just held her like that for some time, enjoying the intimacy. And when she started to quietly hum a lullaby he allowed himself to relax and doze off, hoping with all his heart that she was telling the truth.

(Background Music _Return of the Dark Lord_ by Peter Gundry)

The next morning Bishop roused to the feeling of Rona straddling him. He smiled sleepily and murmured, "Good morning to you too, Princess. Still feeling frisky?"

But as he opened his eyes, intending to look upon his beautiful woman he was greeted by her furiously glaring face as she held a dagger high above her head, ready to plunge it into his skull. His eyes widened and he threw his head out of the way just as she slammed the blade into the pillow he'd been laying on, sending the feathers in it flying.

"WHAT THE FUCK, RONA!?"

She yanked the blade up and made to bury it in him again when he grabbed her wrist hard and found himself utterly stunned by how strong she was as she pushed back, nearly overpowering him. "RONA! RONA STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

She hissed at him, her voice a mixture of her own and someone else's, something deep and Daedric as she growled with two voices, " _Sate its hunger with his blood. Kill the one closest to you. Empower it and send his soul to the Void._ "

A deep and mad cackling reverberated throughout the room then, as everything darkened over and anything not nailed to the floor started to rise and shake in the air, including the bed they were on. Bishop found his strength, grabbed her other wrist and pushed her back down hard onto the bed, pinning her arms above her and struggled to keep them there. She really was unnaturally strong. That's when he noticed her eyes glowing a deep, angry red. Something… _someone_ was possessing her. 

He looked at the glowing dagger in her hand and realized what it was, a Daedric Artifact much like the one Nelkir had once been possessed by. Rona writhed underneath him, screaming and hissing at him, trying desperately to escape so she could attack him. He had to get it out of her hands and he knit his brows together, cringing hard at what he was about to do.

"I'm so sorry Rona," he groaned as he took her wrist in hand and twisted sharply, snapping the bones. She shrieked in agony and dropped the dagger, then he made the mistake of grabbing it, feeling it's white-hot handle as it nearly seared a hole in his hand. He cried out in pain when he threw it across the room and it took a simmering bit of flesh from his palm with it as it smacked hard against the wall and clattered to the floor.

The room brightened immediately and everything that had been floating fell back hard onto the floor including them. He braced himself over her as the bed hit the floor and he caught his breath. His adrenaline was racing through his veins and all his nerves were on end. He looked down at her as she started to come to and completely lost it, " _WHAT THE FUCK RONA!?_ "

She looked up at him dazed and winced holding her broken and limp hand close to herself, "Wh-what? What happened?"

" _WHAT HAPPENED!?_ YOU TRIED TO KILL ME IS WHAT HAPPENED! WHAT THE HELL _IS_ THAT!?" He jut his finger out at the still steaming blade on the floor.

Rona turned to her head to look and her eyes widened in terror. Her lip trembled as she burst into tears and shook her head shuddering, " _No_ … _Nooo_ … _Please, please nooo._ "

Bishop pushed himself off of her and forced himself to calm down at the sight of how distressed she was. He was pissed beyond belief but he knew yelling and screaming wouldn't do anything to help the situation. He took a deep breath and looked over his own burning wound and said, "Look, I know that I said I'd give you time to tell me - but _fuck!_ I think I deserve a godsdamned explanation for this!" He looked back at her, showing her the blistering and torn flesh on his palm. She turned away from him, still clutching at her wrist and held the most hopeless expression on her face.

"Talk to me damn it," he demanded, "A Daedric Artifact? Really? Who's is it? _Sithis?_ "

She flinched and looked at him wide-eyed and asked, "Why would you say that?"

"Oh I dunno," he threw his hand up incredulously, "Maybe because you were trying to send me to the Void!"

Her gaze traveled away from him again as she looked over at the dagger on the floor and then gingerly held her broken wrist up, turning it over to reveal what appeared to be an enormous bruise on her arm in the shape of a handprint.

He looked at it and faltered in his anger, "Shit, Rona, I'm sorry, I had to do it. I didn't want to-"

"It's not from you," she whispered. He just stared at her perplexed. She wiped away her tears with her good hand and took a deep breath. Then she started explaining everything, "They finally found me. I was here in Morthal, working a job for the Thieves Guild... at least, I thought I was here to work a job. But no... the Thieves Guild sent me here to give me to the Brotherhood," she met his gaze, knitting her brows together. Bishop's mouth was parted slightly, in stunned silence.

"They took me," she said, "they did something... _horrible_ to me and marked me with this. The Black Hand. If I don't routinely carry out contract assassinations for them, then the mark will get bigger and take my soul to Sithis in place of the ones I couldn't or wouldn't send myself. So now you know," she turned away ashamed, "I'm a murderer, Bishop. I have to kill innocent people just to live." 

"Rona," Bishop mumbled her name. But instead of him turning away or looking at her with disgust like she'd expected he reached in, grabbing her by the shoulders and embraced her. "I don't get it..." He murmured as she clutched tightly to him, "I thought Delvin was protecting you. I threw ten grand in front of him and he wouldn't even give you up for that much. Why now?" 

"It's my own fault," she said, pulling away from him and looking up into his face, "That dagger," she nodded to it and Bishop looked back at it, "It's Mehrunes' Razor..."

He practically snapped his head back and blurt out, "Why do you have it?"

"I needed a dagger and it has a powerful enchantment which has the ability to sap one's life force directly and immediately. It doesn't always work, but I figured... with that, I could easily take out the Falmer in the ruins in close combat. But instead, all I've done with it is murder five mostly innocent people."

"Mostly innocent?" He questioned.

"The Brotherhood found me because I killed an old woman. The headmistress of Honorhall."

His eyes widened and he sputtered, "Wait. That was _you?"_

"You heard about it?"

"Rona I was there! I walked out of the Ratway when the guards were just arriving..."

"I didn't mean to do it," she said sadly, "I saw her hurting one of the children and I just got so angry and next thing I knew I was holding the Razor in her throat and I couldn't even remember how I got there."

"So how does the Brotherhood fit into all this?"

"She was a contract kill for them, that I took by mistake."

He let his head fall back a little as he exhaled deeply. Rona grasped his wounded hand with her good one and cast a healing spell, trying to mend him. He looked back down at her and said, "We have to get to Winterhold as soon as possible. Get your father to heal your hand and see if we can find some books on Dwemeris-"

"No," she said, shaking her head and stopping him.

"What do you mean no? We'd already planned to go there."

"I can't let Ata see me like this, Bishop. I just can't - and I still have to... I have another kill and the mark is still growing too fast. I don't know how much time I have before it overwhelms me."

"Rona..."

He gave her a pleading look but she just shook her head again and firmly said, "No."

"Then what now? There aren't any healers in Morthal or Dawnstar."

"We go to Whiterun," she said, "Maybe... maybe Eorland can make me a new dagger. But first I have to..." She stood up and carefully dressed herself, pulling her underwear and leathers on. She grabbed her fur wrap, draping it over herself and took a cloth hanging from the tub. She knelt down by the Razor and with the cloth in her hand tentatively picked it up, holding it in while it was wrapped in the fabric so it would not touch her.

"Wait," Bishop called as she opened the door, "Where are you going!?"

"To do what I should have done in the first place," she said as she stepped out into the blistering cold. It was snowing again and she looked to the skies, shouting, "LOK VAH KOOR!" Splitting the clouds apart. She threw the Razor onto the ground and stared hatefully at it. Bishop caught up with her, still bare-chested as he hopped on one foot, yanking his trousers up and buttoning them. He stood by her side as she took a firm stance, clenching her fists and roared, "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

A light golden fire burst forth from her. The Razor only burned red in reply. Rona shouted again, sending a slightly stronger flash of fire forth, still the blade did not falter. She did it again and again and again. She tried so many times until her voice started to become hoarse from the number of times she shouted. It was useless though. No matter what she did she couldn't get her fire to burn hot enough to melt the metal the way she'd done with the Ebony Blade. She screamed furiously at the damn thing as it merely glowed, taunting her.

Bishop put a hand to her shoulder and she looked over at him, tears clinging to her lashes. He was holding a shovel and said, "We'll bury it and freeze it over, Ladyship. Alright?"

She nodded and he found a soft patch of earth and started to dig into it, making a decent sized hole. She kicked the Razor into it and he covered it with dirt, stamping it down with the back of the spade. He took a step back, looked at her and said, "Freeze it."

She shouted, "FO KRAH DIIN!" Easily sending forth a powerful flurry of ice.

The mound of earth froze over but she wanted to be sure it stayed. She had part of another shout that was even stronger than frost breath so she mustered up all her hatred for the Razor and roared, "IIZ SLEN!"

It froze solid blue, into an ice form, one that would take dragon's fire to melt. She sighed hoping that it would keep. That somehow even Mehrunes Dagon wouldn't be able to take it. Bishop tossed the shovel aside and gave her a reassuring look, saying, "We'll get through this, Rona, like we always get through everything. I promise you, we'll reach the end of this all soon."


	11. Chapter 11 Taking Risks

**Chapter 11**

 **Taking Risks**

 _A/N: I apologize for the delay on this my lovely readers. I hit some serious writer's block and life in general recently. Work, school, and Forbidden Love been keeping me crazy busy, and when I finally found time to write I simply couldn't find the motivation for it. I hope this isn't too blah of a chapter. Things are really picking up after this again. I just hope I can find it in me to keep going at the moment. I am also sick with a cold, so that doesn't help._

 _Lots of songs in this one. By the way, I have all the songs for both books in these YouTube playlists of mine. Feel free to use them when you don't want to go searching for the songs._

playlist?list=PL2Pn2Hpk9MfUV2Zaiknj_0mxItO-cRBom

Bishop was sitting on the opposite bench from Rona in the carriage, propping his feet up on her side while Karnwyr snoozed on the floor. He thought she'd sit next to him, but instead, she chose to sit in the far corner of the carriage resting her shoulder against the wood as she got lost in her thoughts.

They'd spent the morning wrapping up her broken hand and putting it in a sling. He gave her a dose of Qetesh's Best to help with the pain and then they packed up and briefly discussed their plans before setting out for Morthal to rent a carriage that would take them to Whiterun. Rona kept her hair and eye color in their natural state but draped a colorful shawl over her shoulders instead of the fur wrap. They figured it would be different enough from her standard attire to keep any of the guards from recognizing and arresting her for murdering the Orc.

Bishop tried to get her to wear her red dress again, but she refused, claiming it was too cold. As much as he liked the form-fitting leathers on her, he really wanted her to go back to her old look, the one he'd grown so accustomed to. It was strange seeing her so differently, with her hair chopped shorter and parted near the middle. She'd changed so much since he last saw her. He'd noticed her battle scars had accumulated as well. When they were intimate the night before, he saw the new burns and white slashes along her thigh and all across her arms and legs. It made no difference to him though, she was still the woman he loved, the one he wanted to spend his life with and yet she was choosing to be so cold and distant with him right then.

He thought it might be because of what happened that morning with the Daedric Artifact and he could hardly blame her. For so long she'd been gone trying to protect him from the dragons only for him to tell her it was worthless. And now she was marked by Sithis himself and meddling with some of the darkest Daedric Princes, making her path that much more difficult and dangerous for the both of them. She probably felt like she couldn't trust herself around him.

He also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was going to leave again. In fact, he was sure she would. He just didn't know when. All he could do was try to bring her some joy while she was there with him and somehow try to convince her to stay.

"Rona," Bishop called to her, but she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear him. "Ladyship," he said and she snapped from her reverie and looked over at him.

"Hm?"

"You alright? You look like your miles away right now."

"Just have a lot on my mind," she said, shrugging him off and leaning back into the corner of the carriage. He tried to think of something that might lighten the mood and take her away from the troubles that were weighing on her.

He shifted his foot over on her side of the bench and prod her with it. She looked back at him. He smiled and said, "Been missing your voice. Maybe you could share it with me."

She turned away from him again, "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" He asked with a tone of disappointment.

"Won't," she said, "The last thing I need is for..." she glanced at the carriage driver and brought her voice down an octave, "is for people to hear that the Dragonborn is alive."

"What's so bad about that?" He asked just as quietly.

"The Thalmor are still after me, Bishop," she said gravely, "They never did finish the job, remember?"

He gave her a poignant look but when she turned away from him again he just let out a defeated sigh and settled in on his side of the bench, crossing his arms over and going quiet. There really was no talking to her when she got like that.

They had a two-day trip to Whiterun and they would be stopping at Nightgate Inn to rest for the night before leaving again in the morning and arriving in Whiterun around midday. He planned to treat her to some of Sanguine's ambrosia, after all, he did owe the Daedric Prince for leading him back to her and he thought they really could use a night of fun for a change.

The carriage stopped abruptly and the two of them looked up to see why their procession had halted. Both had hardly noticed the people coming and going on the road, but they now realized that it was abundantly busy with Stormcloak soldiers walking through the snow, coming from what appeared to be a military encampment and checkpoint. They'd come to a stop right behind a Khajiit caravan and several other civilian travelers, some walking and others riding horseback.

The Stormcloaks were quick to let certain travelers pass through over others, particularly anyone who was of Nordic descent. They heard the sounds of a female Khajiit arguing with a Stormcloak soldier ahead, both Bishop and Rona recognized her immediately.

"I told you, we are not transporting any illegal goods," Ahkari hissed, "How many more times must you rummage through our wares before you are satisfied!?"

"Shut it cat," one of the soldiers ordered as he started tossing valuables from a trunk in the caravan. Ahkari's eyes widened and she ran about comically catching the breakables -clay pots, urns, and glassware -in her arms before they shattered on the ground.

Then they heard the sound of a familiar little boy speaking in Ta'agra to his mother, "Fado, q'zi dej ahzirr khi?"

Zaynabi pulled little Nakir closer to her and replied softly, "Afa vaba skrunariit bishu fa."

One of the soldiers, a bearded young man, circling the caravan did not approve of their foreign exchange and immediately rounded on her, "What are you saying to each other? Telling secrets in that sand-paper tongue of yours cat?" Then he eyed the child and snarled, "I bet they're hiding the moon sugar on the boy," he grabbed Nakir's arm suddenly, yanking the terrified child away from his mother, who wailed for her and started crying. "Didn't think we'd check him, did you!? Well, we know your types, damned shady sneak-thieves! Even willing to hide contraband on your own children!"

"Stop it!" Zaynabi shrieked reaching for her son, "Stop it! You are frightening him!"

Kharjo jumped in and insisted, "The boy was only asking when we were to leave! Please! He has nothing on him! He is just a child!"

"Fado! FADO!" Nakir sobbed, trying to pull from the Stormcloak's grasp.

Bishop noticed Rona getting more and more agitated as the situation escalated and he quickly moved to her side of the bench and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her attention away from the unfolding scene and keeping her planted in the carriage. He whispered to her in a hushed voice, "Don't do anything rash."

She fidgeted under his grasp and looked back at him desperately, pleading with her eyes for him to do something.

"Just leave it to me," he promised and grabbed her fur wrap from his pack tossing it to her. "Cover your ears and stay put," he instructed before he hopped out of the carriage as Karnwyr followed along, thinking they were just going to stretch their legs.

He went around the other travelers and up to the caravan watching as several other Stormcloaks drew their weapons, threatening the hissing Khajiit as they attempted to get to the boy.

Bishop eyed the bearded Stormcloak holding Nakir tightly by his arm, twisting it painfully as he tried to escape and reach for his mother. He felt his blood boiling over and drew his blade. Then he snarled a command, " _Sic'em!_ " Karnwyr bared his canines and joined Bishop as he kicked off the ground, the two of them moving in perfect time together, performing a feat of prowess they'd learned from their brief period spent training with Roxlin and Magrob up at Fort Dawnguard.

As Bishop rounded on the Stormcloak holding Nakir, he roared, "LEG!"

In the second that the Stormcloak turned to see who was shouting at him, Karnwyr lunged in and viciously latched onto his leg with his jaws, chomping down with the force of a bear trap. The Stormcloak released the boy as he howled in pain giving Bishop a chance to toss the boy out of the way and sweep his own leg in, kicking the Stormcloak right off his feet and hard onto the ground on his back while Karnwyr continued to hang on, tearing his flesh as he fell and screamed.

Bishop grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands and brought it down swiftly, stopping with the point touching at the Stormcloak's forehead. His lips curled into a sneer as he snarled a warning to the others coming in close, " _One more move and I plunge it through his skull!_ "

The Stormcloak beneath him was breathless with shock and winced every time Karnwyr shook his head slightly.

One of the Stormcloaks, a woman said, "You're a fool! You're completely outnumbered!"

"You know," Bishop growled irritably, "it's one thing for me to tolerate a bunch of common highwaymen harassing every tradesman and traveler just trying to pass by and get on with their lives, but I'll be damned if I put up with fucking kidnappers."

"I wasn't kidnapping him!" The Stormcloak sputtered under his blade, "I was just checking him for stolen goods and moon sugar! Come on! You're a Nord! You know exactly how these rabid felines are!" Then he looked over hatefully at Zaynabi who was cradling her son against her chest and spat, "Buncha fucking bandits and thieves is what they are! All they ever do is come here illegally, peddling their trash and staining our homeland with their filth!"

"Watch your mouth, Stormcloak," Bishop snapped, "Don't you _ever_ think for one second that I'm _anything_ like you racist pieces of shit."

He glanced around then, catching his breath as his adrenaline rush began to slow and started to wonder how he was going to get himself out of the situation he'd just created. He was surrounded by twenty odd Stormcloak soldiers, with one held hostage under his blade and all of them had their weapons drawn, ready to attack in an instant. Thankfully Rona hadn't intervened, but he was afraid she might have to, considering how many troops there were. Just then, only adding to Bishop's irritation, the haughty voice of the leader of them all carried over the crowd, "What is going on over here?"

Ulfric Stormcloak came riding up on a white stallion, followed by several of his lead lieutenants, and donned in spectacular Commander's clothes and furs. He was looking more regal than Bishop had ever seen him before.

He guided his horse towards them as more and more soldiers stopped to rubber-neck with curiosity at the tense scene. "And what do we have here?" Ulfric asked with a touch of amusement in his voice.

The young Stormcloak looked over at the Jarl, pleading with his eyes and stammered, "He-He just attacked me! Him and his mangy mongrel!"

"I only attacked him because he attempted to take a little boy away from his mother," Bishop gave a side-long glance towards Ulfric and smirked, "Surely even the Great Bear of Eastmarch is opposed to the kidnapping of small children?"

No one made a move as Ulfric continued to survey the scene, looking over at little Nakir who was at that point ducking sheepishly behind his mother's legs. Ulfric slowly turned his attention back to the Stormcloak on the ground and asked, "What's your name soldier?"

The Stormcloak on the ground just blinked at first before muttering, "H-Hamvak sir."

Bishop looked down at him, stunned, as he gave him a quick once over, realizing that it was, in fact, the young man from Ivarstead. He could hardly believe his eyes. Risla's younger brother had not only grown a beard, but he'd grown nearly a foot taller since he saw him last.

"Hamvak," Ulfric started, "is that the truth of it? Were you attempting to take the boy from his mother?"

The Stormcloak looked up at him feebly and seemed suddenly speechless in that moment, opening and closing his mouth before finally sputtering, "W-We were just checking for illegal contraband, sir. Suspected the boy might have some on him."

Ulfric looked thoroughly unamused and said, "I see, so it seems that not only will we have to send you off to the medical tents for healing, but we'll need to send you back to Windhelm for retraining in _civility_. We do not separate small children from their mothers, no matter where they come from." Hamvak looked mortified that he'd just been berated by the very man he looked up to. Ulfric didn't seem to notice though when his gaze traveled back to Bishop and he stared hard at him, raising a curious brow and asked, "Where do I know you from?"

Bishop scoffed, amazed that the man had such a short memory, although he suspected that like Tullius, Ulfric tended to keep his mind on the war effort and had a habit of shutting everything else out. He tried to think up a fake name, a lie, _anything_ , when a female Stormcloak shouted, "That armored dog… Isn't he-?"

"Yeah I've heard of him," a male soldier replied quickly.

"Is that really-?"

"Can it be-?"

Murmurs and whispers broke out around them but it was Ulfric's lead General who spoke up, his demeanor battle-hardened and his voice gruff, "I know who he is."

"Tell me, Galmar," Ulfric said still scrutinizing Bishop, trying to place where he'd seen him before.

"He calls himself Arrow the Dragonslayer. But you might remember him accompanying the Dragonborn. He's the Thrice-Banished."

 _Shit_ , Bishop thought. He gripped the handle of his sword tighter as the crowd's whispers started buzzing more quickly now. But Ulfric merely looked on with a deeper interest and said with dawning comprehension, "Ah yes… I remember you now… the werewolf."

At that point, people didn't even bother to whisper anymore and their gossip got loud and wild. Bishop scowled at Ulfric and said firmly, "Not a werewolf anymore. Just a ranger."

Ulfric smirked and chuckled, " _Just_ a ranger? Well, you're quite the famous ranger then. Although I suppose we do owe you our thanks. You've done Skyrim a great service in taking on the role of Dragonborn yourself," he paused a moment, almost looking dejected when he said, "It's a great loss for us... I was bereaved when I heard the news about Lady Rona. Is it true what the rumors say? That it was a dragon which took her life?"

Bishop furrowed his brows at the man then quickly turned away from him and nodded, trying to look as forlorn as possible despite the fact that the Dragonborn herself was seated in a carriage a few paces away from them.

"You have my condolences. I understand you two were close… Skyrim is surely bleaker without her lovely voice."

Bishop met his gaze again and couldn't hold back his growl when he snapped back, "Oh don't pretend like you cared about her. You honestly think I'll forget how you nearly took her head when you attacked Whiterun?"

He was surprised when Ulfric did not smirk or jeer but looked genuinely saddened as he said, "I know she and I had our differences, but I never held it against her. The Dragonborn has been and always will be a great gift to our world from the gods. You may not believe me, but I had no intent to harm her that day."

"But you did intend to use her, to show her off like some prized catch when Tullius came calling," Bishop retorted.

A slight smirk broke free and Ulfric turned his head when he said, "Not one of my best moments, I will admit. But you all got the upper hand on me, now didn't you?"

Bishop narrowed his eyes at him but was suddenly reminded of the young Stormcloak under his sword when he whimpered a little. Ulfric looked down at Hamvak and then back to Bishop and asked, "Since this misunderstanding has been abated, perhaps you would you be so kind as to stay your blade?"

Bishop moved his stance, taking his weight off his blade and sheathed it, then Karnwyr gave another low growl and shook his head slightly making Hamvak cry out again.

Ulfric laughed a little, "And if you could call your dog off as well…"

Bishop gave several clicks of his tongue and Karnwyr reluctantly let go of Hamvak's leg. His tongue lolled from his bloody mouth as he sat on his haunches and panted, looking to Bishop for another command.

"You two," Ulfric pointed to two of the soldiers standing by, "Get him to the medical tent."

Two of the nearby soldiers stepped forward, lifting Hamvak under the arms on each side as they drug him through the crowd with his wound leaving a bloody trail behind him. Bishop didn't feel the least bit guilty over it. He was deeply disappointed to see that Hamvak had grown into such a hateful bigot over the last year despite the few times Rona had reached out to him and shown him some kindness, proving that not all elves were what he imagined them to be.

Bishop gave a deep sigh at that thought and went to head back when the Jarl's General growled, "And where do you think you're going?"

Bishop looked over at the man and scoffed, "Well personally I'd like to pass through here and go about my business already," then he looked right at Ulfric and snapped, "I imagine the rest of these people would like to carry on with their lives too or do you intend to keep and harass everyone who's not a Nord at your checkpoints?"

Ulfric looked around at the group of travelers then, a mix of Redguards, Dunmer, a family of Imperials, an Orc and the Khajiit.

He waved a hand and gave an order, "These people may pass."

"What about the Thrice-Banished? He attacked one of our men," Galmar noted.

Ulfric smirked at Bishop, "He's free to go Galmar, I don't believe he'll cause any more trouble for us, as for the rest of our men..." he said regarding all the still lingering Stormcloak soldiers and nodded to Galmar.

The General bellowed out loudly, "Alright men! Enough lollygagging! Get back to work! You know your jobs!"

The soldiers immediately dispersed and Ahkari approached Ulfric, bowing slightly and said, "Thank you Jarl Ulfric for allowing us to pass through."

Ulfric spoke without looking at her, "You know our arrangement. I expect the supplies in three days' time, can you manage that, even with this delay?"

Ahkari looked a bit sour at that notion but forced a smile and said, " _Yes_ , my Lord. Things should move smoothly now…"

"Good," Ulfric pulled on the reigns of his stallion and looked back at Bishop one last time and said, "I'm glad to see that you've taken on a greater path than your father ever did. I wish you well in your endeavors, Arrow."

The Jarl left them then, heading for their encampment while the travelers started moving along the path, still watched closely by the Stormcloak sentries stationed along the road.

Zaynabi went over to Bishop with Nakir at her side and thanked him profusely for intervening and helping the boy. Bishop told them to think nothing of it and waved them off as they returned to their caravan.

But when he turned back to the carriage his heart sank. It was empty. He started to panic for a minute, looking left and right until he felt a soft hand lacing their fingers with his, he looked down and saw Rona smiling brightly up at him, although she'd restored her previous appearance from her usual rosy self to the blonde hair and golden eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Don't do that to me!"

She leaned into his side and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping them."

Bishop rubbed a hand to the back of his neck and sighed, "Yeah, well, couldn't leave one of my favorite brats to get snatched up by the Stormcloaks, now could I?"

"You're such a good man," she said warmly, "You'll make a wonderful father someday, Bishop."

He raised his brows at her and thought immediately of the night before. It'd concerned him a little after their lovemaking when he thought back to how unsure she seemed of him finishing inside her. And being the horny idiot he was, he'd been so caught up in the moment that he couldn't help but give her what she'd begged for. He had a feeling that she wasn't taking her contraceptive potion anymore, after all, they weren't together for six months, so why would she bother?

"Ladyship…"

She tugged on his arm, drawing him back towards the waiting carriage and said, "Come on, we're almost at the inn and-," she shivered suddenly, " _I'm freezing!_ "

He chuckled, falling back into his old habits so naturally and wrapped his arm around her, putting on his most charming grin and said provocatively, "Not to worry Sweetness, _I'll_ keep you warm tonight."

She flashed him a seductive smile and bit her lip. He felt himself getting excited at just the thought of spending another night in bed with her, although they'd have to be careful with her broken hand and he made a mental note to be more careful with himself. The last thing he wanted was to get her pregnant before she completed her journey.

He helped her up into the carriage and got a nice view of her lovely hips as he followed her back in. He was pleased when she chose to curl up next to him on the same bench, nestling in under his arm. _Someday_ , he thought, _someday we'll have a quiet life and a family. No more dragons. No more destiny._ He wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders holding her close with these thoughts in mind.

(The Songs are _The Bard's Song, Age of Oppression,_ and _Ragnar the Red_ by Malukah)

They arrived at the inn early in the evening and found the place packed with Stormcloak soldiers that had been working their rounds up and down the road between Windhelm and Whiterun. They realized, however, it might have been a little busier than usual because of the two beauties that were keeping everyone entertained with their barding.

Eira of White Fire was singing her heart out to the _Age of Oppression_ while the lovely white-haired woman accompanied her on her magnificent lute and sang backup vocals.

Rona stopped and stared at them for a moment. She wasn't feeling any powerful emotion at that time and couldn't understand why they were there.

"She's been following me around you know," Bishop said.

Rona looked up at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Eira," he said looking down at her, "She's been helping me fight the dragons, well… she does _sometimes_. Not always. I thought you knew – I thought it was you who set her on me."

Rona shook her head, "I wouldn't know how to do that."

"Huh…" he trailed off then he nodded to the white-haired woman and asked, "So who's this cutie?"

Rona looked back at her, realizing that she was no longer dressed in her usual black leathers but a beautiful, long, wine-colored dress. Their eyes met for a moment as she sang along with Eira and she flashed that mischievous smirk of hers as if inviting her to join them.

"I don't know," Rona said, "I met her when," she gingerly rubbed at the mark on her arm through her sling and lowered her voice, "I met her when they branded me with the mark."

"Find a table," Bishop urged as he started to walk towards the bar, "I'll order us some food and a room and we'll talk more."

Rona nodded and looked around the packed space for a table. She was lucky to find one in the back corner of the inn, out of earshot of most of the patrons who were huddled around and captivated by the stunning Maidens of Dragon Flame singing in front of the hearth.

She'd grown used to seeing large groups of Stormcloaks and Imperials in each province. It was all too common to come across checkpoints since the war efforts had been gaining traction. She'd even gotten caught up in the midst of a battle several months before and it took everything in her power not to shout her way out of that mess, nearly being skewered and beheaded as she scrambled to escape the raging battle while each side assumed she was a spy for the other.

But it was very odd seeing Ulfric Stormcloak again after so long. She knew that he must have been planning another siege on one of the larger cities. Probably not on Morthal, though, she speculated he was aiming for Markarth.

Four months prior Tullius tried to lay claim on Whiterun again and failed dismally. Ulfric lost plenty of troops to that attempt, however, and decided to up the number of soldiers stationed at the central hold in Skyrim. Now with him present there she had a feeling he was working on staging a new attack and was gathering his resources.

Markarth, being a hold nestled in the mountains and made almost entirely of carved, stone and Dwemer ruins was going to be extremely difficult to take. Tullius had been ramping up the defenses throughout the city as well and it was full of Imperial soldiers, siege weapons and worst of all Thalmor battle mages, sent on loan from the Thalmor themselves. Just another sign that the Thalmor were attempting to keep the war going as long as possible if they were willing to spare some of their own to the Empire.

Bishop came back over and sat down, serving her a warm plate of grilled leeks and spiced beef. He pulled out a beautiful decanter of what looked like red wine and poured two glasses.

Rona ignored the beverage and dug into her food first, struggling to cut her meat with one hand. Bishop chuckled and took the plate from her and started slicing it into bite-sized pieces and asked, "How's your hand feeling?"

"It's alright," she said, "I used a numbing spell on it earlier so I can hardly feel it. I'm just trying not to move it much."

He frowned a little saying, "I feel bad. I didn't want to do it."

"I know," she gave him a reassuring smile, "I don't blame you, Bishop. Better a broken hand than…" she faltered, trailing off and her gaze shifted down to her lap.

He finished cutting her food and passed it back and said earnestly tapping a finger to the table, "So let's talk, Rona. I want to know everything that's going on, especially with the Brotherhood, down to the last detail." He took a bite of his food and stared at her expectantly, one cheek puffed out while he tried to look so serious. She started laughing at his face and he pursed his lips, grumbling through a mouthful, "What? Is it something I said?"

"No," she giggled, "Just… _your face!_ " She covered her mouth with her good hand and started laughing even harder at him. It wasn't that funny, but something about him, about the entire situation, just brought on her laughter. Here she was in a tavern with the love of her life while he drilled her with questions about the Brotherhood, her hand broken earlier by him after a wild fiasco with the Razor and two Dragonborn women were, right at that moment, singing their hearts out to a tavern full of Stormcloaks. It was like some sort of Sheogorath conjured nonsense. It was just too bizarre and she couldn't help but laugh about it. Everything in her life up to that point had just gotten so ridiculous. She started to wonder and laughed, "Is this a dream? Because there's no way any of this can be real."

Bishop swallowed his bite and chuckled, then he reached over the table and pinched her hard on the shoulder and she yelped, "OW! What'd you do that for!?"

"See? Not a dream," he said grinning at her, "Now come on, crazy, tell me what you've been up to these last six months. Where did you go after… after you left?"

She sighed deeply and leaned her elbow on the table, resting her head in her hand. "I went straight for the Rift," she said meeting his gaze, "Tried my luck in those two ruins out that way and ugh," she groaned, "It was a disaster. I almost died both times and realized I'm terrible at picking locks and sneaking around."

Bishop snickered a bit over his food and said, "I coulda told you that, Princess."

She scowled at him and said, "Oh so it's funny when I almost die, is it?"

" _No_ ," he said firmly, then smirked, "But it is funny that you didn't think to bring me on these little trips of yours. Master thief here, remember?"

She gave him a sad look and turned her head away. He sighed and said, "Look, all I'm saying is," he grasped her hand into his knitting his brows together, "I can help you. _Please_ , Rona, let me help you."

She looked at him, feeling so unsure of what he was asking. If she brought him with her on her journey again not only would his life be at risk once more, but he'd have to witness all of the terrible things she'd have to do just to keep the Black Hand on her arm at bay. He seemed to glean this as he squeezed her hand, saying, "I had to do a lot of questionable things just to survive once too," he pulled his hand from hers and looked off to the side of her, "I've killed people… people who definitely didn't deserve it," then he met her gaze again and said decisively, "What you have to do now… that will _never_ change the way I feel about you, I hope you know that."

"Bishop…"

He smiled at her and said, "Let's not think about that right now, okay? First I want you to tell me everything. I want to hear all about your adventures," he went back to eating his food and smirked, "then I'll tell you all about mine."

Rona smiled a bit, picking up her fork and took small bites as she got into it, delving into all the details of her adventures, starting with how she managed to get into the Thieves Guild, despite the fact that she was such a terrible thief. She told him that Delvin would only take her on as an apprentice if she paid him and so she did, quickly running out of gold that way as he and Vex taught her how to sneak around, lie straight to someone's face and pick locks.

He laughed way too hard when she told him how her conscience always got the better of her when she went on the jobs they'd assigned her and she got caught and tossed in jail nearly every time. They shared in plenty of laughs together as she regaled him with the tales of her other adventures across Skyrim, how she'd get distracted from what she was supposed to be doing for the Guild and instead went chasing after a dragon or exploring all sorts of ruins and caves. She'd explained how she started following the dragons around, realizing most of them would lead her to Word Walls set in the mountains and showed him all the new scars she'd gotten from her efforts.

Bishop did the same, displaying his own proudly as he told her about his wild adventures fighting the dragons. Of course, after the first few battles with them, when Karnwyr was nearly spit-roasted alive, he realized that he needed better protection for the wolf and made his way up to Fort Dawnguard. There he met up with Roxlin and Magrob who were kind enough to outfit Karnwyr in the enchanted armor usually meant for their war dogs.

Rona looked over at the sleepy wolf and smiled, "He looks good though, like a true professional."

"They helped me train him too," Bishop said as he stretched, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair, "He's amazing at fighting those things, Lightfoot, you should see it."

"I did, remember?"

He waved a hand at her, "Nah, I mean a real fight, like against two of 'em at once."

Rona crinkled her brows and laughed, "Why would you be fighting two of them? Oh, were they already battling for territory maybe?"

He brought the chair back down and pressed his elbows to the table, getting in close and said, "You've noticed it, haven't you? Those little ones that group together? I keep seeing them all over, gathered together in big groups, usually just flying around chasing each other, but a few times it's been real bad. Last time I saw those bastards was up in Rorikstead and they nearly burned down that entire settlement. I'm starting to think they're breeding."

Rona thought for a moment, remembering the group she'd seen playfully flying together just outside Avanchnzel. It had seemed odd to her, that a group of dragons would be getting along like that, not to mention how small they were in comparison to their much larger brethren. "But dragons don't breed," she argued, "They're incapable of breeding and they're sexless…"

Bishop cocked a brow at her, "Are you serious?" He gave a low whistle, "Now that's just depressing. Ugh, can you imagine going your whole life and never getting laid once?"

Rona snorted a laugh and picked up her glass of wine. "You're ridiculous," she chided and took a sip of the wine. It tasted amazing and all too familiar. She took another deeper drink before she frowned and set the glass back down. "What is this?"

Bishop smirked at her and said, "An old friend of ours paid me a visit in Riverwood a few days ago."

She looked at him curiously for a minute before she said, "Oh no…"

Bishop grinned and nodded picking up his own glass, "Yup. You can thank Sanguine for this fine wine, Ladyship, and for him leading me back to you." He took a deep drink of his, downing it all in a gulp and smacking his lips together after, "Damn! Now that's the good shit."

Rona stared at him incredulously, "Bishop! Remember what happened last time you drank that!?"

"To be honest Ladyship, not really. My memory of that night is very foggy."

She looked at him with half-lidded eyes, "You got engaged to a _hagraven_ , Bishop."

He chuckled, pouring another glass for himself, "I think we'll be alright this time around. Come on, drink up, let yourself go for once."

Rona looked at the glass, debating on whether she wanted to get more drunk than she had been in a while or not. But as Bishop downed another himself she finally gave in and said, "Oh what the hell?" And took hers, tossing it back completely.

"That's the spirit, Ladyship!" Bishop chuckled as he poured her another, already looking quite buzzed himself.

The two of them went through four to five glasses of wine each while continuing their conversation before Bishop stopped and slurred, "You know Ladyfoot… I'm startin' tah think this bottle is refilling itself." He squinted one eye shut and peered down into the neck of the decanter, laughing a little.

Rona reached for it with her good hand and mumbled, "Wait… lemme see."

He carefully passed it to her, but instead of looking into the bottle she tipped it back and took a draught from it. Bishop snapped, "Hey! Save some for the rest of us why doncha!?"

Rona giggled, feeling the warm buzz throughout her body and set it back on the table. Bishop snatched it back and Rona looked around at the tavern folk, still busy singing along and dancing with both Eira and the mysterious white-haired woman. She suddenly had a wild impulse and practically shouted, "I wanna sing too!"

"You know what?" Bishop slurred, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes and pointed a finger at her, "You _should_ Lightship… your voice… is _incredible_. You _knooow_ ," he leaned over the table, trying to look and sound sultry, "you can use that mouth of yours… on," he wobbled a little motioning to his crotch and smirked, "on _me_ any old time."

Rona laughed at him shaking her head, "Later you horndog, but first," she made to stand and nearly stumbled. She clutched at the table edge steadying herself and carefully ambled over to the two women singing to all the soldiers. The white-haired woman saw her and beamed, quickly motioning a hand to her. The two of them stepped apart, giving Rona room to stand between them and she looked to the white-haired woman asking, "Can you play _You're Not Alone_?"

Her malachite eyes sparkled and she nodded enthusiastically, she held her hands out to the strings, waiting for Rona to start.

(The song is _You're Not Alone_ by Erutan)

Rona took a deep breath and released a long note.

" _Lost in darkest blue  
Endless labyrinths weaving through  
Will you stagger on,  
with no star to light your way?  
Share with me your tears  
All your troubles and deepest fears  
I remember when  
you chased all my shadows away_

 _Won't you take my hand?  
Come away with me from this land  
Let me give to you  
all that you have given to me  
Fly horizon bound  
Find the moon behind darkening clouds  
Even far apart,  
know our souls together will be"_

Bishop grabbed the bottle of wine and wandered over towards the bar, getting up close to watch with the others as Rona sang with the other two ghostly women, although they looked very solid and alive in that moment.

He loved it when she sang, he felt like he could listen to her forever. It gave him so much joy just to see her so happy, in her element, doing what she loved best. He felt himself yearning and wanting for her more than ever but he was worried too that he'd lose control again.

"She's…" Bishop heard someone murmur and he looked over to see the innkeeper staring hard at Rona, slowly realizing who she was. Then Hadring's gaze traveled back to Bishop who gave him a harsh look as he quickly spilled some coin on the counter and said quietly, "Mind keeping those thoughts to yourself? We don't need word spreading that she's alive, especially not with all these soldiers around."

Hadring slowly nodded his head and smiled a bit, "Keep your gold friend. It's good to see you again, _both_ of you. Warms my heart to know she's alive and well."

Bishop nodded his thanks to the man and looked back over at Rona, their eyes meeting as she sang for him.

" _Look into my eyes  
All eternity you will find  
In this fragile heart,  
know that you will always belong  
Shout into the night  
Show the darkness that you will fight  
Hopeless you may feel,  
but inside I know you are strong_

 _Keep me in your heart  
So we'll never be far apart  
Let the bonds of love  
break these chains imprisoning you  
Always you will find  
Shadows lingering close behind  
Lift your spirits now,  
We shall be together soon._

 _When the storm draws nigh  
Dreams will shatter before your eyes  
Know that you're not alone  
When the battle starts  
I will comfort your restless heart  
You'll know that you are home."_

Rona couldn't keep her eyes from him the entire time she sang. She wanted him to know this song was for him from her. That she was always thinking of him and that he was the reason she kept going on with her journey. She knew she wasn't alone. She had the Dragonborn women of yore, certainly, but now she had Bishop back in her life and she couldn't bear the thought of ever leaving him again. He was right. She needed his help if she was ever going to find the scroll. He could help her, she had to let him. She couldn't push him away anymore. They would do this together and everything would be alright. It had to be.

As her song drew to a close she gave a quick, polite bow to the soldiers all cheering her on and quickly found a seat next to Bishop at the bar. The other two women kept up their tavern songs though, not leaving the men wanting. Rona was amazed when the white-haired woman picked up the vocals this time, however, passing her lute to Eira and stepping into the crowd to sing.

(Background music _Little Wolf_ by Karliene and _No One_ by Miracle of Sound feat. Karliene)

Rona watched her for a moment, very curious about her and who she really was. She wondered if maybe she'd been a member of the Brotherhood in her life too and if she'd been forced into it. Bishop caught her attention though as he pushed a full glass of wine towards her. She took it and started to sip on it, taking it slower than before. Bishop leaned his arm on the bar and looked her over for a moment before he said, " _Sooo_ about the night before…"

Rona looked up from her glass and he continued, "When I uh," he cleared his throat, "When I finished… inside." She felt her cheeks burning then and he chuckled saying, "I didn't mind it of course, but, I gotta ask, Rona… _yoouu_ didn't exactly seem so sure about it. You still taking that potion of yours?" He asked the last part almost nonchalantly as he sipped on his own glass of wine.

Rona opened her mouth for a moment, wanting to speak, but then closed it. She was beyond embarrassed and even ashamed of herself for it. She definitely had not been taking her contraceptive tonic, she hadn't since she'd left him. There didn't seem to be any need to at the time. Bishop glanced over at her severely reddening face and asked, "So I take it that's a no?"

"Bishop," she breathed, looking back at him apologetically, "I…"

"You know," he spoke softly, not getting angry in the slightest, in fact, he seemed almost amused, "I was hoping we'd be, uh... married before all that. At least enjoy our honeymoon a little," he chuckled.

She knit her brows together and stared into her glass, "I'm so sorry Bishop. It was stupid... the heat of the moment and," she shook her head, "I shouldn't have let you. It's just all those things you told me, about... about Freya and Farkas expecting their first," she looked into his eyes, getting teary-eyed herself and was immensely grateful that everyone including the innkeeper were so deeply distracted by the two bards.

She choked out, "We should have been married by now. If it wasn't for all of this, every single burden I carry, I would have said yes Bishop, I really would have. And it just hurts to think... gods," she put her face in her hand, "it feels so petty, but it should be _me_... it should've been _us_ expecting our first." Her tears broke free and she started crying pathetically in front of him, admitting all this right to him.

He looked on sympathetically and grasped her hand into his as he wiped at her tears with the other and said, "It's okay Sweetness. I've been thinking about it a lot too and I won't lie, the idea of it... _of us_... trying," he smirked, "it's getting me _really_ excited... but is this what you want? What you _really_ want? Because if it is I'll be more than happy to grant that wish, Rona. I just want you to be happy."

She looked up at him and saw that he was actually blushing for once. She just stared at him stunned, not knowing how to reply. _Is_ it what she'd wanted? A baby? _Now?_ In the midst of all of this? It seemed so insane to her, but also so… _exciting_.

"Want to take a risk, Rona?" His grin was growing wider by the second and she noticed the bulge in his trousers getting larger by the second too. She blushed even more and felt butterflies in her stomach. It was almost like the first time when they'd first made love, only this time it was taking it to a whole new level. She smiled back at him and maybe it was the wine which dulled her ability to reason but she threw all common sense out the window and nodded fiercely.

"Yes," she said emphatically, "Yes, I want to."

He gripped her hand tighter and stood up then, tugging her off her stool so she was standing right up against him. She pressed her head against his chest, feeling the pulse of his rapidly beating heart. He was strong and so warm. She wanted nothing more than to make love to him and it was obvious he wanted the same as she felt his hardness pressing so firmly against her thigh.

He pulled her along with him to their shared room, shutting and locking the door securely behind them. He started stripping his clothes off and helped her out of her leathers. he was trying to be gentle, but she could see just how excited he was as his breathing grew heavy and he struggled just to undo the laces on her top. Finally, after carefully removing the top portion which interfered with her broken hand, they moved over to the bed. She fell onto the soft mattress on her back and Bishop, totally nude and so erect it looked like it hurt, tucked his fingers into her leather trousers and underwear and tugged on them forcefully, yanking them down until they were completely off and out of the way.

She spread her legs willingly and said quickly through her own sharp breaths, "I'm ready Bishop, I'm so ready!"

He did not hesitate to step between her thighs and grasp her rear, drawing her to the edge of the bed before immediately sliding himself into her very wet depths. They both gasped and moaned with a new indescribable pleasure as they coupled together. The idea of it, of making a new life, gave them a renewed vigor and brought them so much closer together. Bishop seemed absolutely driven to prove how virile he was as he took her three times over that night, leaving both of them spent, breathless and exhausted after the fact. And as Rona slowly drifted off in his comforting embrace, while he tenderly stroked her hair she knew in her heart, everything was going to be okay.

They were back together again and nothing would ever drive them apart.

As the night wore on and the tavern quieted down, Bishop slept soundly next to his woman, the woman he loved with all his being, the woman he would have gladly died for. However, _she_ did not sleep as soundly, for a light metal clattering across the room woke her. Her eyes flit open, revealing not two bright green gems but instead deeply glowing red ones.

Rona quietly sat up from the bed, not disturbing her partner as she gently padded across the floor barefoot and only dressed in his large, linen undershirt which stopped short of her knees. She stood in front of the dresser, staring at the menacing little dagger sitting atop it. She reached out, ready to take it, to fulfill its purpose, to sate its hunger with his blood.

But another hand reached out stopping her. Rona blinked and took in a sharp breath, feeling lost and confused for a moment until she looked on at the young white-haired woman who gave her a deeply troubled look and shook her head, mouthing the word, _Don't_.

Rona's lip trembled and she pulled her hand back, mortified. How could this be happening? They'd buried it, frozen it over. Would nothing stop Mehrunes' Razor from finding her?

Rona looked at the woman again and asked with a pleading whisper, "Can you help me? Can we get rid of it? Please tell me your name."

The young woman made to speak when she quickly turned her head at the sound of a beautiful, soft voice drifting in from outside. She started to walk away, following the sound and Rona cried, "Wait! Please tell me who you are!"

She stopped for a moment and her long hair billowed in soft curls around her face as she smiled at Rona and motioned for her to follow.


	12. Chapter 12 Eroeh

**Chapter 12**

 **Eroeh**

(The Song is _Arwen's Promise_ by Eurielle)

 _"It is done; I have decided.  
No going back now.  
I have seen, and I believe  
You'll return somehow._

 _Since the first time I saw you I knew  
The shadows in your heart withdrew.  
Though the world grows darker every day  
And hope seems all but a memory,  
Nothing can dim or extinguish this flame  
Ignited long ago, deep within me"_

Rona followed behind the white-haired woman, practically chasing her out the door of the inn as she swept along almost quicker than she could catch her. The moment she was outside though her breath caught in her throat and she looked around stunned to see that it was light out. Not only that, but there was no snow to be seen. The sun warmed her skin as she took a few tentative steps forward, absolutely bewildered. It felt like a hot summer day instead of a chill winter one, which is what it should have been considering they were nearing the end of Evening Star.

Rona looked around and saw the long tendrils of white hair whisking back around the inn. She hurried after the woman chasing her all the way around the inn and down towards the lake. It was so beautiful. Flowers were blooming all over while butterflies and bees went about their business, dotting the flowers and pollinating them. Across the way, dragonflies caressed the lake while fish broke the surface catching the slower ones in their mouths. The birds were singing in the lively green trees and the rabbits were feasting and mating under the thick foliage.

Rona stepped onto the dock, looking out at this strange Dragonborn woman who had been following her so closely since they first met in that terrifying place, in the forests just outside the Void of Sithis.

She was staring firmly at the water and Rona moved forward, standing by her side and looked down into the sparkling clear lake only to be shocked when she saw the pale ghostly face of a woman, nearly identical to the one standing next to her. She looked... dead. Like she'd drowned. And yet, Rona knew, the song, that voice... it was coming from the woman in the water.

She turned to her companion and saw that she looked incredibly distressed. Wanting to ease her sorrow Rona said, "We have to get her out of the water. We can... here," she knelt down, reaching for the drowned woman. She slipped her good hand into the water and snapped it back quickly. She'd expected it to be cool definitely, but the water was absolutely freezing cold. She saw her own breath then, chilled in white puffs as it touched the air. Everything started to change, so suddenly, going from the beautiful warm landscape back to the dark, freezing cold night. It was like a curtain drawing back, revealing the truth to her. Rona watched as the lake started to freeze over again and her gaze traveled down to the break in the ice where the drowned woman lay beneath the surface.

The white-haired woman knelt beside her then, desperately reaching for the girl in the water as her tears traced her cheeks. Rona decided to help her as best she could. She reached back in, knowing now how cold it would be, but before her hand even touched the surface another hand burst from the water, grabbing her entire arm and dragged her down. Rona tried to scream, but she hit the water face first and her cries went unheard as she was immediately whisked away under the surface.

The world around her grew so cold and dark and then she heard the sound of roaring water, but it was not like she was beneath the lake anymore. She opened her eyes and found herself somewhere else entirely that looked a lot like some part of the Reach to her.

(Looped Background Music _Through the Woods We Ran_ by Vinsvept Fantasy Music)

She was in the midst of a grassy field, surrounded by wild flora and fauna set in the mountains. Behind her was an enormous roaring waterfall, in fact, there were several waterfalls all around, springing from the mountains and deluging into rapid rivers which coiled around, falling further down the mountainside. She watched as people, who definitely looked like Forsworn went about their daily tasks. A group of women sat in a tent gossiping and giggling as they stitched together fabric. Several men walked by, carrying animal pelts and meat with them, looking as though they'd just returned from a hunt, some stopped by the tents to flirt and tease the women, leaving the girls giggling while the older women shooed them off.

One of the women in the tents Rona recognized immediately as the white-haired Dragonborn, only her hair was a dark brown and tied neatly up on her head. She seemed very happy and content as she went about her business, stitching together some pelts into a short top, until a sharp whistle caught her attention and she looked up, out of the tent. The sound had come from high above. Rona looked up too and saw another woman standing on a wooden overhang, staring down at the pool of water below. She also had long coiling dark hair, but it was left down and whipped around her face as it caught in the wind.

The young woman in the tent stepped out and shouted, "Eroeh stop! Don't do it! Father is going to be so mad!"

One of the elderly tribeswomen came out of the tents too and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. She started slowly shaking her head and scowling as she grumbled, "Damn it all child. Going to get herself killed!"

For a moment the woman up above disappeared from view and the elder and other girl looked relieved until she came running forward and leapt right off the edge of the platform, splaying her arms out as she shrieked with glee and carefully pointed her arms down into a graceful dive. She plunged into the water with hardly a splash and came bursting up and out a moment later with a wide grin on her face while she giggled madly.

The elderly woman was clutching a hand to her chest and the other woman who was quite obviously Eroeh's twin, had her hands to her hips and was tapping a foot angrily and snapped, "What were you thinking!? You know how Father feels about us going up there!"

Eroeh climbed out of the water and started wringing her mess of hair out as she beamed broadly and said, "That was amazing! You should try it sometime Dahlia! A bard even sang to me the whole way down and gave me a better voice than you!"

Dahlia scoffed at her, "That's what you said last time too, _oooh_ , but look at that," she vocalized sweetly, catching the eyes of several of the men working nearby, "I can _still_ sing better than you!"

Eroeh laughed and vocalized right back, a little deeper in tone and raspier, but still incredibly beautiful all the same. Both girls did this, going back and forth, singing loudly, almost obnoxiously, in fact, and caught the attention of nearly everyone in camp, especially the men who were smirking and winking at Eroeh, only for her to return the charm, until the elderly woman stepped between them and spat, "Oh stop it you two!" She cut her eyes at Eroeh and scolded her, jutting a finger at her, "Don't think I won't tell your father about this when he gets back! You know you're not to go up to the Bard's Leap and disturb the hagravens!"

Eroeh rolled her eyes, "I didn't go near their little witchy workspace. They had no idea I was even up there."

"Oh no? Then explain that!" The elder pointed up to the platform again where two hagravens were peering over the edge, looking disgruntled, although Rona had a feeling they always looked that way no matter how they were feeling.

Dahlia laughed, "Looks like they heard your whistle."

Eroeh pursed her lips together and mumbled, " _Whoops..._ "

Just then they heard the sound of loud horns blasting near the foot of the mountain village and both girl's bright malachite eyes sparkled as they smiled and shouted in unison, "They're back!"

They both ran off then, one still soaking wet and the other completely dry, leaving the old woman huffing to herself.

Eroeh turned, waving and called back, "Don't worry Eshne! I'll tell Papa all about it myself and save you the trouble!"

Eshne grumbled some more as both girls hurried down the stairs, weaving through the other Forsworn that were coming and going.

"Papa! Papa!" Eroeh cried excitedly as an older man with dark graying hair and war paint that dripped from his eyes rode up on horseback. He pulled his dappled stallion off to the side while two dozen other Forsworn, who looked like soldiers, all started dismounting their own steeds and went to greet their partners and families.

Their father smiled at both of them and slid off his horse just in time to be nearly tackled by Eroeh. She hugged him tightly and he made to return the hug when he stopped, holding his arms out around her shoulders and chuckled gruffly, "Eroeh, sweetie, why are you all wet?"

She looked right into his eyes and admitted gleefully, "Papa I jumped off of Bard's Leap and survived!" Then she started spouting off a tall tale, "A real bard appeared before me when I came out of the water and promised to give me his beautiful lute if I took his hand in marriage! It was so lovely, I nearly considered it!"

Dahlia rolled her eyes heavily while their father continued laughing and asked, "Oh and what pray tell did this lute of his look like?"

"It was so beautiful Papa, all carved from juniper wood and the pegs were made from saber cat teeth. Oh if only I had one like it! I might just have to jump off Bard's Leap again and take him up on his offer!"

The older man chortled loudly, he couldn't even be mad that she'd disobeyed him in the first place when she so readily admitted to what she'd done. Then he sighed and said, "Alright. You can have it."

Dahlia gaped at him incredulously.

But Eroeh just jumped up gleefully and shouted, " _REALLY!?_ I can have it!?"

"Yes, I think it's high time you inherited your mother's lute."

" _Father!_ " Dahlia shouted, "You can't be serious! You're rewarding her for breaking your rules!? The hagravens were so angry too!"

"Madan!" A Forsworn man hurried up to him interrupting his reunion with his daughters.

"Imval, what is it?"

"Lord Odahviing has been sighted in the area."

"I see," Madan said nodding slightly, "This is good. It's sooner than we expected, but we need his protection more than ever now."

"Why Father? What's happened?" Dahlia asked, concerned.

He looked at her grimly, "The Nords have been gathering at Markarth. They tried to take Karth River Canyon. Fortunately, we managed to push them back with the aid of Lord Rektuhah. It is he who went to call upon the other dragon lords," he looked back to his fellow and gave him orders, "Gather the elders together at the summit. We need to pool our resources and present a great offering for him so that he might support us in our fight against the Nords," he started moving, pulling out of Eroeh's embrace and said to them, "I trust you two know your roles and will keep your heads down for the time being."

"Of course Father," Dahlia said dutifully.

He stopped a moment looking back at Eroeh and said, "That goes for you too my Little Wildflower. No more mischief while we're meeting with Lord Odahviing."

She crossed her arms, pursing her lips into a pout and he grinned at her before turning away again. Then she made a face and mimicked him in a mocking way, " _No more mischief Eroeh. No more mayhem Eroeh_."

She stuck her tongue out at his back and he shouted over his shoulder, "I saw that young lady!"

She turned red and Dahlia snorted a laugh. Then Eroeh quickly called to him, "What about Mother's lute!?"

He waved a hand back saying, "It's yours, Princess! You know where to find it!"

She grinned tauntingly at her twin who just rolled her eyes and said, "Come on, we have to get ready."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard yah!"

The two of them hurried along, heading for their shared tent near the top of the hill. They heard the horns go off again, announcing the need for preparation for the arrival of the dragon lord. All of the tribesmen and women scrambled about pulling out their finest furs and pelts and drawing the proper tribal markings on their skin in deep blue, dark red and black paint.

The girls hurried into their tent and pulled the curtains closed, giving them some privacy while they changed. They both pulled on the more formal tanned hide dresses made just for these visits.

Eroeh tugged hers on, struggling with the fabric in the chest area and grumbled, "I think I got yours again."

Dahlia laughed, "And why would you say that?"

"Because my _boobs_ don't fit! Ugh! Eshne always makes these so tight!"

"You just eat too much," Dahlia teased, "It's all that juniper crostata you can't stop stuffing your face with."

Eroeh cut her eyes at her sister and scoffed motioning to her ample bosom, "Oh what? And it all went straight to my tits?"

" _Apparently_ ," her sister said with a laugh as she easily wriggled into her own dress, carefully tucking her breasts into the top where they fit neatly with no issue. "See? Mine fits perfect!"

"Then why in Bormahu's balls doesn't mine fit!? We're twins!"

Dahlia snorted a laugh and shook her head, "C'mere, lemme see your hair."

The two of them started to braid up each other's incredibly long hair, adorning their locks with beads and feathers. After nearly an hour of neatly pulling their hair together, they began to apply the black ceremonial paint to each other's faces, pressing it in lines under their eyes and swirling it elegantly along their cheekbones. They slid a single thin line down the middle of each other's lips, indicating their relation to the Chieftain.

When they finished, they both turned and looked at their reflection in the broken shard, glass mirror on their dressing table. Dahlia scowled, cocking her head to the side slightly as she looked over a splotchy looking swirl on her cheek and grumbled, "It's crooked, Eroeh, you need to fix it."

But Eroeh was too busy grabbing at her sister's arm and dragging her out of the tent, "Come on! I want to go get Mother's lute before we head up to the summit!"

Dahlia gave an exasperated sigh as she let her twin yank her along and they went a little further up the hill, heading straight for their father's tent. Eroeh peeked in, but it looked as though he'd already come and gone. He was most likely at the summit preparing their tribe's offering with the elders. She spotted her mother's lute set on her side of the bed. She went over and picked it up, gently stroking at the beautifully carved wood and touching the strings as she reminisced, remembering all the songs her mother had sung to them while she played the beautiful instrument.

Dahlia stood at her side and said, "Do you really think it's a good idea to bring that up to the summit with us? It could get damaged near the bonfire..."

"It'll be fine," Eroeh assured her as she continued to gaze fondly at the instrument, "I'll keep it safe."

"Whatever you say," Dahlia shrugged, then she turned and peeked outside the tent, "It's almost dusk. We'd better hurry."

The two left their father's tent and wound their way up and over the bridge that led to the edge of Bard's Leap and the Witches tents. They crossed between the two places and Dahlia stopped for a moment and said, "Do you hear that? It... it sounds like chanting..."

(The Music is _Berserkir_ , _Gungnir, and Fornheim_ by Danheim)

Eroeh halted her own procession and said, "Yeah! Come on! They're starting!"

Ahead of them on the summit of the mountain plateau was the entirety of their tribe, seated reverently around an enormous bonfire, hands entwined in a wide circle as they moved their shoulders in motion and the four dragon priests of their tribe danced wildly around the roaring flames. The warriors grunted in time, hitting the drums and playing their instruments loudly while the priests released their low wails of worship to the dragon lord.

The fire itself was enormous and burned brightly against the mountainous backdrop. It was deeply significant to their people, having been made from the blaze of Odahviing's shout ages ago and kept lit for hundreds of years. It had sustained their people for so long. Not only had they used it for warmth and to cook their food, but they'd forged their weapons in those fires and used it to fight back against their enemies.

As Eroeh watched in awe of the priests and their emotive dancing and carefully edged their way around the crowd, the girls were immediately caught by Eshne who glared at them both and snarled, " _You're late!_ "

"Sorry Eshne," Dahlia quickly apologized, then eyed her sister and said, "Someone just had to go get something."

Eroeh bit her lip and shrugged, laughing a little. Eshne merely huffed and ushered the two of them along, moving them quickly over to the place at the head of the summit where their father stood, awaiting the arrival of their dragon lord.

The girls got down on their knees and patiently waited while the villagers continued their reverent chanting for their lord. Eroeh looked up at the offering they'd gathered for Odahviing. There was an entire mammoth's carcass and plenty of other scraps of meat, elk and even saber cat. It had been set in the midst of other things as well, mostly shiny trinkets and even gems and gold pieces. It was a given that dragons loved precious gems, though Eroeh could only guess as to why, considering they had no use for them, certainly not as food and definitely not as currency.

The two hagravens of the tribe, sisters Silva and Gritta were dancing around the offering, casting some sort of magic over it, perhaps imbibing it with more flavor for the dragon lord, Eroeh speculated with amusement.

Just then they felt the ground beneath them rumble and the shadow of a great beast swept over them all. Odahviing bellowed out a deep roar, making his presence known before he swept downward and landed harshly at the edge of the summit. He lifted his shoulders and head high as he looked down on them all. Everyone in the tribe lowered their own heads and the girls curled up, pressing their faces down to their knees.

Their father Madan fell to one knee, still a step above his people, but a step below the great dragon lord towering before them all. Odahviing looked over the offering as the hagravens stepped back, lowering their heads reverently and he immediately began to tear into the mammoth hide, ripping enormous chunks from its body and consuming it. He never took long to eat, being such an enormous beast with such a wide maw, it was easy to rip apart what was arguably a small appetizer for the massive red dragon. When he was finished he spoke, deep and booming, "Rise Madan and speak."

Madan pulled himself up while the rest of the tribe kept their heads down. "Lord Odahviing, we give thanks for your flames which gave us warmth and protection for an age past. I pray that our offering, all the wealth and delicacies the Reach has to provide, was to your satisfaction o' mighty dov."

Odahviing looked him over for a moment, turning his head to the side, like a bird before he said, "I have had tinvaak... words with my brothers Rektuhah and Krozeim... I know why you presented this. You seek my _spaan_... my protection, do you not?"

"Yes my lord. We need you at our side. We cannot fight the Nords without your power."

"Has my _yol_... my fire not been enough? It is my power. A part of me."

"Lord Odahviing," Madan pleaded, "The Nords outnumber us greatly. Even at Karth River Canyon, theirs and our people suffered great losses and that was _with_ the help of Lord Rektuhah."

" _Geh_... and I saw the state of my brother who nearly gave his life to save your people, yet they did nothing to protect him," he hissed angrily.

"My Lord," Madan gaped at the dragon, "We did what we could... but we are merely _joor_ \- mortal men. We could not quell the arrows which split the skies and tore at his wings. We tried-"

Odahviing flapped his wings angrily and roared, " _TRIED!?_ What is the meaning of this word!? I would speak in my own tongue... _Tried_ ," he growled it out again with contempt, " _Dreh uv gahvon_. Act or yield Madan. I would have expected your people to throw themselves in front of the _ronaaz_ , the arrows which pierced my brother's _qah_ , his hide. Yet none of you did! Instead, you fled and made to defend your young! Useless babbling _joor..."_ he hissed the word, sounding absolutely disgusted.

But it was Eroeh who felt truly sickened and disgusted. It was certainly not her first time in the presence of the dragon lord, but those meetings had typically been short-lived. They'd sing their songs for him, worship him and bow while he ate their offering and then take his leave again. She'd always assumed that this was just some age-old agreement and ritual. An exchange of goods if you will. They'd show him their respect, give him dinner and a show and he'd go on protecting their people from predators and invaders.

Now that invaders were threatening them he wouldn't protect them? All because they'd worked to defend their families and protect their _children?_ She'd heard enough and stood up, letting her anger drive her. Dahlia noticed and glanced up hissing, " _Eroeh no! Get back here!_ "

Eroeh stormed right past her father with her mother's lute still in hand and walked bravely up to the dragon lord and snapped, "Is that it then!? You're just going to eat our food and leave!?"

Odahviing looked at her curiously, or in astonishment, it was difficult to tell with dragons, since their faces lacked so much needed to show their emotions.

" _Eroeh_ ," Madan growled. Her father was definitely shocked by her sudden bold and brash maneuver and the quake in his voice held every indication of that.

But she would not stop, she was so angry, throwing a hand out at the bloody mess where the pile of animal carcasses had once been, "Do you have any idea how long it took us to collect all that food!? All that food that fed you in less than five minutes which would have fed our entire tribe for nearly a month! And you honestly have the gall to stand here and berate us for protecting our families!? What is wrong with you!?"

"EROEH," her father's voice came more sharp and commanding now, but held a tone of fear underneath the strength of it, "Come here, _right now_."

"NO!" She snapped back without even looking at him, "I'm so sick of it all! What's the point!? We worship him and give him all this food we work so hard for and then he won't even meet his end of the bargain!?" She cut her eyes fiercely at the dragon lord and snarled, "That's a load of _mammoth shit_ if I've ever seen it."

Odahviing raised his head as he studied her and hissed out, "I see she is one of yours, Madan. What imprudent progeny you have sired," then he lowered his head down, placing his jowls right in front of her and Eroeh felt a shiver crawl up her spine, realizing that she may have made a very grave mistake. But she resolved not to show her fear and stood resolutely before him, a scowl etched on her face.

"Do you know how easy it would be to snap you apart little _joor_?" He snapped his jaws at her, gnashing them fiercely, but she held still. It really wasn't from her own bravery though, no. It was because she was utterly _paralyzed_ with fear now and couldn't move even if she'd wanted to.

"My Lord," Madan breathed a pleading breath, "Please forgive her. I will punish her for her foolish insolence, I swear to you, but I beg you not to harm her."

" _Niiid_ ," he growled long and low, almost mockingly as he cocked his head at the Chief, "Then how would she ever learn her place, Madan?" He turned his beady eye back to her, lowering his face to her again and said, "You approached me with the fire of a _dov_ little _joor_... the _yol_ your _bormah_ , your father once held. You choose to address me, your Lord, as that of a _jun_... a Chief, then speak. What can you offer me other than measly scraps of meat... what can you give me that would sway my favor to you?"

He wanted more? Of course a dragon god would find a single mammoth carcass and hunks of sabre cat and elk to be mere scraps. He probably ate half his body weight in mammoth every day. But what did she have to offer that wasn't more food? What could he possibly want?

Eroeh thought frantically as she gripped her mother's lute in hand and then it occurred to her... She looked up at him and shook the fear from her voice forcing the words out loudly, "I can sing to you! I can sing a song just for _you!_ "

She watched as his sharp pupil contracted and dilated, then he lifted his head and let out a guttural laugh, " _Aan lovaas!_ A song! What foolishness is this?"

"It's a magic song!" Eroeh said quickly, weaving one of her many tall tales. This caught his interest as he paused his laughter and looked down at her again. She swallowed hard and lied through her teeth, "This morning I leapt from the Bard's Leap," she pointed back to the overhang set at the edge of the falls, "And I survived! When I came up from the pool below, I was greeted by the ghost of a bard who told me that I would meet with our great Dragon Lord on this very eve. He told me that I should sing this song for him... for you! And he gave me this lute, a magic lute," she added quickly, "one that would weave the sound of a song that could pierce even the coldest heart of a dragon and bring him warmth within, greater warmth than the hottest fires in his belly!"

She waited anxiously for his reply and when he finally said, "Go on then little joor. Sing for me your _lovaas_ and we shall see if what you say is true," she hoped that she hadn't just dug her own grave.

"If I am liar my Lord, then you may take me as an offering. But spare my people..."

The side of Odahviing's jowls curled up ever so slightly into a smirk at her remark.

Eroeh took a deep breath and strummed her mother's lute, drawing forth her pleas from deep within.

(The Song is the _Red Woman_ by Karliene)

 _"The night is dark and full of terrors  
The stars will bleed  
And Winter freeze  
Darkness falls upon the world_

 _Blood will spill upon this night  
I pray to you  
Oh Lord of Light  
Save us from the death beyond the wall"_

She vocalized to him with all her heart as her tribesmen joined her music, playing in tune with her incredible voice. She prayed to Bormahu that her voice truly would melt his cold heart and she added in a little prayer asking not to be eaten as well.

 _"The night is dark and full of terrors  
The stars will bleed  
And Winter freeze  
Darkness falls upon the world_

 _Blood will spill upon this night  
I pray to you  
Oh Lord of Light  
Save us from the death beyond the wall"_

As Eroeh looked up at the Dragon Lord, she was surprised to see him with his eyes closed as he listened, his head swaying to the tune of her song. Had it worked? Did he really like it?

When her song came to a close, she waited with nervous anticipation, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't tear her apart right then and there. Odahviing let out a low breath, a murmur of a growl before opening his eyes. He looked down at her again and she did the only thing she could think of, she smiled and winked at him. Odahviing seemed to raise his scaly brows at her, but she couldn't be sure. Then he said, "I accept your offering."

She was floored. It worked? He believed her? Or he just liked her song enough that he decided not to eat her.

"Y-You do?" She stammered, stunned.

"Yes. But I will not kill you."

She turned her head slightly, baffled, "I... what do you mean?"

"You offered yourself to me little _joor_. You are a liar, for your _lovaas_ did not warm me within. Do not fret though... I enjoyed your pleas and the way you intoned them. You remind me of her. _Eira do Sot Yol_... Eira of White Fire. She was Alduin Thuri's once and so like her, I shall make you mine."

Her lip trembled and she shook her head, "No... I- but I-"

"Madan," Odahviing spoke to her father now, "You have my power. I shall fight with you against those who threaten your tribe. As for this one, your progeny, I expect her at my roost, at the top of the mountain in three days time," he looked down at her again, "Do not be late little _joor_ , for if you are then it is not just the Nords' wrath which you will fear but my own."

He flapped his wings sharply and pushed off the ground, taking flight with a thunderous roar to signal his departure.

Eroeh went weak in the knees and slumped to the ground, shaking all over as the consequences of her actions hit her in full force.

"Eroeh," her father fell to the side of her, clutching her tightly around the shoulders as he sobbed against her thickly braided hair, "What have you done? _What have you done?_ "

She barely noticed her sister coming to sit beside her then as she whispered, her lips trembling and her voice cracking, " _Eroeh... why? Why did you do it?_ "

It all happened so fast, the way her father pulled her to her feet, and he, Dahlia and Eshne and several of the dragon priests all quickly ushered her along through the crowd of silent and stunned Forsworn and back to their tents.

They sat her down on the pelts of her bed and she just stared at the canvas of the doorway, with her hands in her lap, while her father and the other elders spoke quickly, with him getting more and more heated by the second.

"No - NO! I won't let her do this! She can't!" Her father roared.

"She must," one of the priests, a man insisted, "We have no choice, Madan. She offered herself and Lord Odahviing accepted. If we go back on that promise... he will kill us all."

"And what will happen to her!? How long can she possibly survive up there!? What does he mean to do with her!?"

"If it is like he says, that he means to keep her as Lord Alduin once kept Eira of White Fire, then she will be treated as an acolyte or perhaps an apprentice," the priest explained.

"An apprentice!? Of what!? She cannot shout! She has no thu'um!"

"My Chief," Eshne butt in, "He may simply wish to hear her sing... to perform for him."

"But for how long?" He nearly cried.

The tent fell silent then. No one knew how long she would have to stay with the dragon lord. Perhaps it might be for her entire life... or until Odahviing grew bored of her and decided to kill her instead.

"I won't have it," Madan said, his voice cracking as he choked back his sobs.

But Eroeh stood up then and said, "I'll go."

"Eroeh," Dahlia whispered her name and the others just stared at her.

"Eroeh, no," her father took a step toward her.

She lowered her head and said, "I have to go, Papa, if I don't then Odahviing will... he'll... _kill_ everyone. So I'll go. I know I... I was supposed to be Chief someday Papa and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she swallowed her tears and put on a weak smile, "I guess all my mischief making finally caught up to me, huh? I'll take responsibility. It's what a Chief would do for her people, right Papa?" She turned away from his forlorn face and looked at her sister then, putting a hand to her shoulders and said, "Looks like the tribe will be in your hands someday instead Dahlia. Probably for the best right?" She gave a feeble laugh.

Then Dahlia stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered, "It's going to be okay Eroeh... I'll find a way to get you out of this like I always do, I swear to you."

Eroeh broke into a fitful sob and clung tightly to her twin. She felt so guilty for all the times she'd cause her so much trouble, and yet her sister had always been there for her, right at her side through it all, even if it was just to scold her.

As the night wore on Eroeh started preparing herself, gathering her warmest clothes and strongest shoes while her sister and Eshne pulled together a bundle of warm furs she would need to insulate herself from the cold mountain peak. Her father hadn't said much at all before he left, supposedly to gather food supplies to pack her, but Eroeh knew better.

As the small group put together her supplies on her bed and her friends came and went, giving her their prayers and well wishes she looked out at the central waterfall where the overhang to Bard's Leap stood. She saw a figure sitting at the edge, illuminated by the full moon. Eroeh grabbed her mother's lute and looked back at her sister and Eshne and said, "I'll be right back."

They nodded and she raced up the hill heading towards the summit. She crossed the bridge and walked along until she stood by her father as he stared down at the roaring falls. She sat down beside him, letting her feet dangle over the edge and just strummed the lute quietly while he hummed a soft melody.

Finally, he spoke saying, "You sing just like she did."

"Like Mama?" Eroeh gleaned.

"Exactly like her," he looked up at the stars, "I'm afraid to say it's why I always favored you over your sister. I know I shouldn't but... you remind me so much of her," then his face cringed and he grit his teeth, sucking a sharp breath in as he said, "And now, I'm going to lose you too."

"It won't be for forever Papa... I promise... I'll find a way. We'll see each other again."

She watched as a tear trailed down his cheek and he said, "Sing me a song my Little Wildflower."

(The Song is _The Wolf and the Moon_ by Karliene)

Dahlia watched from the bridge, feeling a pang of hurt as she listened to her father's confession to her sister. She'd always known in her heart that Eroeh was his favorite. She was so much bolder and braver Dahlia had ever been in her life. She thought she'd win his favor by being the responsible one, by holding back and following all his rules and doing what she was supposed to do. But instead, he always turned around and rewarded her rambunctious twin for her disobedient behavior instead.

Then it occurred to Dahlia that maybe just maybe her father didn't have to lose his favorite child. They were twins. Odahviing would never know. She could go in Eroeh's place. What difference would it make if she went instead? No one would miss her, she told herself. Dahlia turned away from them, feeling her tears welling up in her eyes as she listened to her sister's sad song.

She made to head back to camp when she heard that strange chanting again. She glanced over at the raging bonfire, burning brightly at the summit of the mountain. There was no one there and the chanting definitely wasn't coming from around the bonfire. No, it was coming from the across the way, near the Witches' camp. Dahlia took a tentative step forward, she felt compelled beyond her usual reasoning to enter the area and see where it was coming from.

As she stepped around the leather canvases which separated the hagraven's den from the rest of their camp, an enormous Word Wall came into view. A single word glowed brightly upon it and called to her. She moved forward, completely ignoring all of the terrifying things which lay in parts and pieces around the bizarre little lair. She stared hard at the word, touching it and whispered it as it entered her mind's eye, " _Krii_..."

Her vision faded for a moment and was suddenly brought back to reality when she felt long claws drawing her back and a scratchy voice hissing at her. She was turned around on the spot and one of the hagravens spoke, "It is the Madan's child."

"Ah yes, I see now. But which is it?"

"Ah... um," Dahlia's voice caught in her throat. She knew she was in trouble and that she shouldn't be there.

"It must be the mischievous one, _Eroeeeh_..."

They thought she was her sister? Of course, they thought she was her sister. She would never do anything like break the rules, Eroeh though was the most well-known rule breaker in the entire tribe. Dahlia put on a facade then and smirked at them saying, "Silva, Gritta... I just wanted to say goodbye before I left," she swallowed hard, hoping that she sounded as confident as she made herself out to be.

The old witches cocked their heads much too bird-like she thought before one of them said, " _Yeeesss_... naturally. We wish well on your journey up to the dragon lord's peak."

The other cackled low and said, "If you are lucky he won't grow weary of your songs and may just _keep_ you instead of _eat_ you!"

Dahlia's smile faltered a bit, but she covered it with a nervous laugh and said, "Hopefully..." Then she quickly turned on her toe and hurried out of there, listening to the two of them cackling to themselves. The moment she was out of their sight she sprint down the bridge and back to hers and her sister's shared tent. Eshne was there and looked up at her with the most forlorn look on her face before stepping forward and draping a thick fur cloak around her shoulders, "I know you always hated the clothes I make for you, say they're too tight fitting... but I..." a tear trickled from the corner of her eye, "I made this for you. I pray that it will keep you warm."

Even Eshne thought she was her sister. Had she already been so quickly forgotten? Would they be overjoyed to know it was Eroeh who stayed behind? Would anyone cry for her knowing she'd taken her sister's place?

"Eshne," she whispered sadly.

"I know I could never take the place of your mother, child, but I only ever tried to guide you on your path, to keep you safe."

Dahlia didn't know what to do or what to say, so she leaned in and hugged the old woman and said, "Thank you Eshne. Thank you for everything."

"Oh my dear sweet child," she sobbed.

Dahlia pulled away from the elder and quickly gathered her things. She would have to leave immediately if she wanted to make it to the peak of the mountain where Odahviing roosted in three days time. With one last sad look, Dahlia said goodbye and hurried up the mountain path. She gave a fleeting glance at the place on Bard's Leap where her sister and her father still sat. She lamented the fact that she would never get to tell her father goodbye but knew it was for the best.

This way not only could she keep her promise to her sister and save her, but she could give her father what he truly wanted, Eroeh.

 _A/N: Several of the characters in this chapter and others are borrowed from my good friend EroehAurelia/LittleByrd10513. All appearances in my fic are not canon to her actual story, Breathless, which you can read here for more Bishop related shenanigans and fun. story/167984431-breathless_

 _I tried to stay true to her personality as I know and understand her, however some things may be different from how she actually behaves in her own story. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed double chapter in less than a day! I enjoyed writing this a lot and am looking forward to concluding this brief glimpse into Eroeh in the next chapter until we delve further into her story later on._


	13. Chapter 13 The Heart of the Dragonborn

_A/N: I really tried to split this one into two chapters but couldn't find a good spot to do it at. So after three long weeks you get an extra long chapter!_

(Trigger Warning: Violence, Rape and Murder)

 **Chapter 13**

 **The Heart of the Dragonborn**

Eroeh stepped back into hers and Dahlia's shared tent, ready as she'd ever be to collect her supplies and make the journey to the peak of the mountain where Odahviing roosted. But as she went inside she noticed that everything was gone and Eshne was sitting on the edge of her bed, sobbing into her hands. Eroeh went to her, touching her shoulder with a hand and whispered, "Eshne, it'll be alright…"

Eshne looked up at her and wiped at her tears, "Oh Dahlia, I'm already so worried for her. She was always such a rambunctious child, but I fear even this will be too much for her."

Eroeh blinked and shook her head taking in everything she just said. "I'm not Dahlia."

Eshne sniffled, looking at her bemused and then insisted, "Of course you are. You have to be because your sister just… took everything…" Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what had happened.

"When did she leave!?"

Eshne stood from the bed, her hands were shaking and clutching at the air nervously as she glanced around the small space, "I-she-well - it wasn't long! Perhaps an hour - but why would she-!?"

Eroeh didn't wait a minute longer. She snatched her sister's cloak up, wrapped it around her shoulders and grabbed her pair of daggers, quickly strapping them to herself all while Eshne whimpered and panicked. Eroeh turned to her, throwing her hands to the elderly woman's shoulders and said, "I'll send her back Eshne, but don't tell anyone! If they find out Dahlia went instead of me… if Lord Odahviing finds out…" She knit her brows together and Eshne gave her a single nod of understanding. In that second Eroeh ran out of their as fast as her legs would carry her and darted up the path leading to the peak of the mountain. She glanced off at the horizon beyond the moon and saw billowing storm clouds brewing in the distance. For their tribe it meant a heavy rainfall, but further up the mountain pass it meant heavy snow. Eroeh only hoped she could reach her sister before the storm overtook them.

Dahlia shivered in the cold and sat nestled under a mountainous overhang. She was two days in on her travels and each day had been worse than the last, being battered with a heavy snowstorm and now she was stuck while the near constant blizzard threatened to seal her up in the small crevice she sought shelter in. She was losing time and just knew she would have to press on if she was to arrive at Odahviing's roost in time. She used what little magic Eshne had taught her to cast a resist frost spell over herself and sent out a flames spell, carving a path through the snow.

She did this for hours, pushing onward through the storm until finally she reached the peak of the mountain. Dahlia stepped into the open plateau and glanced around anxiously. There was no sign of the great red dragon anywhere. She wondered if maybe he'd gone hunting, she could only imagine that he must eat a mammoth a day just to sustain himself.

She crept around the snowy knoll and sure enough, her suspicions proved true as she stumbled right into what looked like a mammoth graveyard. Enormous bones that came from all kinds of animals were strewn about the peak and buried beneath the snow. As she stared in awe and fear of the sight before her, she slipped on an ice sheet and caught herself by gripping onto the bony pelvis of a mammoth, stripped clean of its meat and muscle and bleached nearly white by the sun.

Dahlia shivered again, not only from the dread welling up inside her, but because her resist frost spell was slowly fading. She looked around for any semblance of cover in that frozen wasteland and noticed a small overhang in the distance. She trekked across the plateau and wandered towards it as the blizzard started to slow which she was all too grateful for. But with a single misstep she tripped over a large rib and went tumbling down a wide slope. She rolled a short way down and came to an abrupt halt when her body slammed hard against a large mound buried beneath the crunchy, white ice.

She groaned a little, rubbing at the back of her head where she'd banged it against the hard surface and then she noticed something odd. She felt her body rising and falling as the wall behind her _breathed_ and then it released a low and guttural growl. Dahlia stifled the cry rising in her throat and slowly turned her head to see an enormous black eye opening underneath the snow. Then his head lifted, shrugging off the white dust as he cocked his head to gaze back at her.

She couldn't help it when she whimpered. It was one thing to be in the presence of the Dragon Lord while she was surrounded by the strong warriors of her tribe and at a safe distance from him, but to be right next to the beast, alone in the cold was utterly _terrifying_.

Odahviing released another low growl, as though he were just waking up from a deep sleep. His pupil dilated and contracted several times as he blinked, trying to focus his vision on her. Dahlia panicked and tried to move away from him, throwing herself forward and clutching pathetically at the soft powder only to slip and drift back down against the dragon.

Odahviing looked at her, amused maybe, it was difficult to tell, as she struggled to gain her bearings and move away from him. Finally, he stretched his wings out and stood up on his haunches and she merely continued to roll down the slope, right underneath him and into the large hovel that was clearly his nest. He watched her slowly roll to the back of the overhang, which had very little snow and his voice rumbled with what sounded like a laugh.

The moment she stopped slipping down and finally sat on solid, unmoving ground, Dahlia quickly curled up into a submissive position, lowering her head to her knees and spoke quickly, "Lord Odahviing! O' mighty dov! I apologize for waking you from your… your um… great… _slumber_." She hesitated with her words, not knowing how formal she should be and prayed to Bormahu that she would not be killed right then and there for some perceived impudence.

When she received no reply from the Dragon Lord, however, she glanced up only to see him yawning as he scanned the skies. He was unsatisfied with the cloud cover, it seemed and took in a deep breath and shouted, "LOK VAH KOOR!" The power of his thu'um barreled through the thick grey masses and broke them apart, clearing the skies entirely, revealing a bright aurora borealis and the sparkling stars above.

He flapped his wings then, launching himself off the ground and out from under the overhang. Dahlia watched as he circled around a single mountain peak several times before coming to perch upon a blank word wall carved into the mountain. Odahviing started to preen himself, like a bird, burying his head under his wing and nipped at some stray scales on his body, sending them flaking off. He did this for a while as Dahlia quietly observed, unmoving from her place at the foot of the overhang until finally he spoke to her, "Come to me little _joor_. I wish to have a look at you."

Dahlia forced her legs to obey and carefully climbed up the low slope. She tread across the plateau and stood at the edge of the word wall, just staring up at the massive Dragon Lord as he continued to smooth his scales. He paused for a moment, as his head came untucked from his wing and he stared hard at her with one beady eye. His jowls curled into a smirk as he said, "Why do you tremble mortal? Do you fear your _dov thur_ that much?"

She hadn't realized it until he said it, that her entire body was shaking. She really was terrified, considering she was but a plaything for the beast. She lowered her head and said, "My Lord... I am but a humble mortal in the presence of a great dov. I... I don't know what you could possibly want with someone like me."

"I enjoyed your crooning and you offered yourself to me," he answered curtly then paused before adding, "There is something else about you... your spirit is like that of a _dov_... you were so fearless before when you faced me. Now though, something has changed."

Dahlia swallowed hard, keeping her head bowed and her eyes trained on the tops of her hide boots. Did he know? Could he tell that she wasn't really Eroeh? She tried so hard to think of what her sister would do in this moment. She took a deep breath and put on that facade, the mask of her sister and looked up at Odahviing, smiling widely, "Would you like to hear another song my Lord?"

The semblance of his scaly brow raised slightly and he chuckled, "It seems your spirit has returned little _joor_. Well then, go on. I will hear your intoning once more. Perhaps if you are able to warm my heart this time, I may even let you go..."

Dahlia's eyes widened and she clung to that tiny ray of hope. But what could she sing that would melt his heart?

(The Song is _Rescue Me_ by Eurielle)

Something overcame her soul then as the sound of a voice echoed over the mountains. She felt compelled to sing what was truly in her heart, pushed on by a force she couldn't explain.

" _All alone inside  
All alone each night  
All alone I've cried  
Thinking of you_

 _Close my eyes and see  
Close my eyes to sleep  
Close my eyes to escape from this madness_

 _Towers rise, with souls in their woes  
The people cry for someone_

 _Will you rescue me  
You can set me free  
Will you break these chains  
Stop me falling_

 _Will you rescue me  
Give me air to breathe  
Help these eyes to see  
Will you come and rescue me._"

She was stunned to see the ghosts of women appearing all around then, joining her song. Odahviing seemed just as taken aback as he watched the spectacle in awe and then one woman in particular caught his eye. She had fiery red hair and was dressed in robes that Dahlia recognized as the clothes of a Dragon Priest, but they were far more ornate. She was someone special, she knew it. The woman stood by her side as her green eyes sparkled under the shimmering aurora borealis. Dahlia's heart was filled with hope as the ghostly women sang her pleas to the skies.

From just below the ridge Eroeh struggled to climb up, exhausted and starving. She'd managed to catch a snow fox the day before, but realized just how foolish it was to hike up that mountain with nothing but a pair of daggers and a thin cloak. When she heard her sister's voice and the voice of others though she was relieved. She'd made it, but was it too late? Had Odahviing already realized that it wasn't Eroeh singing, but someone else?

She made it to the summit and carefully looked out over the snowy plateau. What she saw amazed her. Dahlia stood encircled by at least a dozen other women as they all sang to the great Dragon Lord who stood perched on a blank word wall, quietly watching them.

" _Will you rescue me  
You can set me free  
Will you break these chains  
Stop me falling_

 _Will you rescue me  
Give me air to breathe  
Help these eyes to see  
Will you come and rescue me._"

As her song finished the red haired woman clapped Dahlia on the shoulder and then looked up at Lord Odahviing with a wide smile tracing her lips and a fearless look in her eyes.

(Background Music _Pamierlyja Božyšča (Dead Deities)_ by Dzivia)

Dahlia wished that she too could feel as fearless in the face of the beast as this woman. But as she tried to draw that inner bravery out, it was immediately shattered when Odahviing suddenly swept down harshly, slamming onto the ground in front of her and growled murderously, "You thought you could fool me puny _joor?_ _That I would not know!?_ "

Dahlia stumbled back just as the ghostly women vanished all around her. Her whole body was trembling and it dawned on her, of course he would realize she wasn't her sister. They might have been twins but the two had always had drastically different singing voices. While Dahlia sang soft and sweetly her sister held the more powerful and raspier tone of voice.

She tried to speak, to plead for her life, to beg for forgiveness, but the words wouldn't release as her throat seemed to close up tightly and Odahviing only stepped closer, growling viciously at her, "Not only that... but they would _dare_ send _you_ to me... did you intend to kill me? _To take my soul!?_ Madan and his people will suffer greatly for this. _Zu'u fen_ _krii_ _niin pah_ \- I will kill them all! I WILL BURN EVERYTHING!"

"No!" She squeaked, tripping in the snow and falling back onto her rear. She threw a hand out, "Please no! We didn't mean to! I was just trying to save my sister! Please!"

His jowls curled up harshly and his pupils became like thin slits as he raised his head, preparing to strike. Then Eroeh appeared, leaping in front of her sister and clutching her around the shoulders. "NO! STOP!"

But it wasn't her cries which saved them, it was another dragon. A brutal, hissing orange beast which crashed right into Odahviing, burying its claws into his body and tore him furiously away from them. Odahviing writhed under the creature as it snapped at his neck, seeking to break it quickly, but their Dragon Lord was too fast as he snapped right back, sinking his jaws into the other's flesh deeply before tearing a thick chunk from him.

Dahlia caught her breath and looked at her sister, stunned to see her. Eroeh knit her brows together and scrambled to her feet, yanking her twin up with her. They heard the roar of a thu'um and the sounds of flames being sprayed from both beasts. Then Eroeh looked back just in time and grabbed Dahlia by the shoulders, throwing them both down behind the word wall as a flurry of hot white fire sprayed across the ground, melting the snow on the spot they were just standing on.

" _Eroeh_ ," Dahlia choked. She was both distressed and overjoyed to see her sister.

" _Shh_ ," Eroeh threw a finger to lips. She chanced a glance around the word wall and pulled back quickly as another spray of flames shot by. Then she looked back at Dahlia and scowled at her, "What were you thinking coming up here!?"

"I..." Dahlia bit her lip, "I was just trying to..."

"What!?" Eroeh snapped, "Sacrifice yourself so I could live!? And then what was I supposed to do without you!? You think I wouldn't care!? That Papa wouldn't care!?"

Dahlia scowled right back at her, tears stinging her eyes as she said, "I heard what Father said to you."

Eroeh's face softened suddenly and she breathed, "Oh Dahlia... _nooo_ , no, he didn't mean it."

But before either had a chance to continue their discussion they felt the word wall shudder and crack as both dragons rolled into it, climbing and fighting each other. Eroeh peeked around the wall again and said, "We have to help him."

"What!?" Dahlia gasped, "You can't be serious! How can we possibly help him!?"

"We have to do _something!_ " Eroeh looked up and said, "Give me a boost."

"Eroeh, please for once in your life just keep your head down," Dahlia pleaded with her as the wall shuddered again, shaking white dust from the top of it.

Eroeh looked back at her and said, "And for once in _your_ life, _just_ _trust me_."

Dahlia gave a broken whimper and then nodded. She knelt down, putting her hands together allowing her sister to step onto her palms. She thrust her upward and Eroeh clutched at the top of the wall pulling herself onto it. She drew both her daggers and held her arms out keeping steady as she watched the two dragons continue their furious onslaught against one another.

She carefully shimmied across the thin strip along the top of the wall and took one of her daggers into her teeth before yanking herself up to the very top of the wall. Odahviing was struggling underneath the orange beast, holding it at bay with his jaws barely clutching at the side of its throat, while it hissed and dug its claws deep into his belly. He held strong though, clenching his jaws tighter and cringing with the pain.

The other growled deeply in dovahzul, " _Daar strunmah los dii Odahviing_ ," he gave a rumbling laugh, " _Hi dir nau daar sul_."

Eroeh took the opening while the other was distracted, taunting Odahviing. She took her dagger from her teeth, readied herself, crouching and gave a short running start, before leaping wildly off the edge of the wall. She spun through the air once before landing onto the orange beast's back, slamming her twin daggers into his neck sharply. He threw his head back, giving a painful screech and Odahviing took the opportunity to kick him back with his powerful legs, sending both the dragon and the tiny Breton flying. Eroeh released her grip on her daggers, allowing herself to fall and roll with a soft thump into a mound of snow.

She watched as Odahviing stood tall and proud over the other, his wings splayed out as he spoke deeply, " _Nid, zeymah. Hi los folaas. Hi dir ulse. Aal fin Dovahkiin lost hin siil._ "

The other's eyes widened at this proclamation and Odahviing lunged at him, burying his bloody jaws into the other's neck. Eroeh cringed with each loud crunch and snap as Odahviing clenched his maw down, tighter and tighter, using more force than she could ever imagine until finally the orange beast ceased its pained writhing and slumped down completely. Odahviing released his grip and they all stared as the dragon's body burned up and a spiraling light shot forth from its remains, surrounding Dahlia in incandescent swirls. When it finally stopped, nothing was left of the orange beast but old yellowed bones.

Odahviing's eyes rest on Dahlia for a moment before slowly moving across the plateau and stopping to study Eroeh. They could see that he was severely wounded. Blood poured from several enormous gashes on his body, two of the deeper ones were in his gut and the others were thick punctures along his throat. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his breath turned icy on the chill wind.

He gave a low, rumbling laugh as he whispered deeply, "It seems that I too shall be claimed by the _Dovahkiin_ on this eve... so be it..." Then he slumped down heavily into the snow, unconscious. Eroeh carefully pushed herself off the ground as Dahlia made her way over.

"Is... Is he dead?" Dahlia asked tentatively, helping her sister up. Eroeh brushed the snow off her clothes and started to move toward their Dragon Lord to Dahlia's dismay, "Wait! What are you doing!?"

"He's hurt," Eroeh said as though it were completely obvious. She stood beside the great red beast and gently put a hand to his snout. He looked so innocent and peaceful like that. She turned back to her sister and said, "We have to help him. Come on, you're better at healing, but it's going to take both of us."

"We should just leave!" Dahlia cried, "He was going to kill us!"

"And now he'll owe us one," Eroeh smirked, "Besides, we need him to fend off the Nords. We can't just let him die."

Dahlia relented and joined her sister then, casting healing magic over the dragon and doing their best to seal his wounds. After hours of working tirelessly on him they both stood back and sighed. Eroeh wiped the sweat from her brow and shivered a little. She noticed that the thick clouds from the day before had started to reform. "We need to make shelter for the night," she said looking around the area.

Dahlia pointed across the way and said, "We can build a camp under the overhang there."

Eroeh smiled and followed her sister into the sheltered spot where Odahviing normally nested. They put together a small fire and set up a tent before sitting by the crackling fire. Eroeh pulled several thick cuts of meat from the supply pack and quickly started cooking them in a pan, "I'm starving."

Dahlia frowned at her and said, "You didn't bring anything to eat with you, did you?"

"Nope!" Eroeh laughed as she flipped the food in the pan, "The second I realized you left I came racing up after you."

"Typical," Dahlia scoffed, "You never think ahead, do you?"

Eroeh smirked, "I always had you to do that for me. That's why I had to come get you."

"Yeah? Is that all I'm good for? Getting you out of trouble?" Dahlia muttered, pressing her elbows to her knees as she rest her head in her hands.

Eroeh looked seriously at her sister and said, "Of course not. You're my _sister_. My twin... you're my other half, Dahlia. What in Bormahu's name would I do without you? I couldn't let you do this... not for me anyhow," she ran a hand through her dark brown locks, "I don't deserve it."

Dahlia lowered her eyes and said, "Of course you do... everyone's always liked you more than me, even if you're a troublemaker."

Eroeh frowned and said, "Stop that. Papa didn't mean it alright? He just said that because... he probably thought that was the last time he'd ever see me," she sighed, "I bet he's really worried about both of us now. I just hope he doesn't do anything drastic."

Eroeh finished cooking up their dinner and put together two separate plates for the both of them. She hungrily dug into hers, just as her stomach gave a loud growl. The two ate in relative silence until Eroeh finished her plate, setting it aside and crossed her legs, studying her sister who was still slowly picking at her food.

"So," Eroeh started, "About what happened earlier..." Dahlia looked up from her food, meeting Eroeh's identical malachite gaze. "Do you know what that was? When that dragon burned up and... all that light whisked around you? It didn't hurt did it?"

Dahlia averted her gaze and said, "You heard him, didn't you?"

Eroeh pursed her lips and mumbled, "Uhh... I haven't exactly been studying my dovahzul..."

Dahlia scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Of course you haven't," she sighed and took a deep breath, then said, "I'm Dragonborn."

Eroeh laughed a little, "Uh what? You mean like... the Nordic hero of legend? _Our hero! Our hero claims a warrior's heart!_ \- like _that_ Nordic legend?" She started snickering under her breath.

Dahlia gave her a forlorn look and said, "Yes... that Nordic legend."

Eroeh stopped laughing and her face fell, "You're serious?"

Dahlia nodded and said, "I started to realize it when I was singing earlier. All those women that appeared around me... they were the Dragonborn women of yore. The one who stood by my side, she was Eira of White Fire, I'm sure of it."

Eroeh's mouth hung open slightly in disbelief.

Dahlia knit her brows together and smiled feebly, "You know what that means right?"

Eroeh closed her mouth and shook her head once. She knew, but she didn't want to believe it.

"Odahviing will have to kill me. If Lord Alduin ever discovers that he allowed a Maiden of Dragon Flame to live... then he will be punished and so will our tribe."

"He can't!" Eroeh snapped. She pushed herself up and walked over to her sister, standing over her, clenching her fists before dropping to her knees and hugging her tightly, "I won't let him. I promise Dahlia. You always get me out of trouble, well now it's my turn to help you."

Dahlia hugged her sister back, smiling still as her tears traced her cheeks. She knew what was in store for them and she steeled herself for the morrow, wondering if their Dragon Lord would awaken and do what was most certainly expected of him.

The two of them fell asleep together with Eroeh clutching protectively at her sister all through the night. Dahlia was touched by the love her twin held for her and she too only wanted to shield her from the terrible fate that awaited them.

As morning came, the snowstorm finally stopped of its own accord and the sun shone through the light cloud cover. The two girls slept soundly as Odahviing rose from his own slumber. His low groans and heavy weight shifting and crunching the snow that had covered him the night before alerted Dahlia. She shook her sister awake as the Dragon Lord slowly crawled towards them, perhaps seeking shelter and more sleep in his nest.

The moment Eroeh opened her eyes she was greeted with the sight of the enormous beast, stumbling forward. The two of them quickly moved out of the way as he slid into the overhang, apparently completely disinterested with both of them. He settled in, curling up and tucked his head beneath his wing, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.

Both girls just stared at his heaving body and then looked at each other, more confused than ever. Naturally Eroeh stood up then and carefully edged around the tired dragon. She stood in front of him and asked quietly, "Lord Odahviing?" He didn't seem to hear so she spoke louder, "My Lord! How are you feeling today?"

He moved his wing a bit and looked at her then grunted, "Why do you remain in my presence little _joor_? You are reckless to do so."

Eroeh crossed her arms and scowled at him, "First of all, my name is _Eroeh_ , not _joor_. Second of all I have to stay, don't I? I made you a promise. My song didn't warm your heart so now... now I belong to you. Besides that," she looked him over, "you're still wounded. You need our help."

Odahviing growled and shifted around, covering his face with his wing again, "I do not need the aid of such imprudent, little mortals. I am a _dovah thur_... I will heal on my own."

"You nearly died last night! Without us you wouldn't be alive right now. You..." she swallowed daring herself to say it, "You _owe_ us!"

Odahviing's entire body shook with laughter then and his wings moved out, revealing his face. She saw his enormous, pointed teeth, still covered in blood from his vicious battle the day before. He cackled only the way a dragon could before his head came down swiftly, stopping right in front of her and he said, " _Geeeh_... you are the one that gave yourself to me. There is no doubt in my mind. Your soul rages with the fire of a _dov_ , yet," he moved his head back, lowering it on his other side to look sharply at Dahlia who held still, a look of fear tracing her eyes, "Bormahu gave all the power of a _dov_ to this one. How odd..."

"You're wrong!" Eroeh spat, coming around again to stand by her sister's side, "Dahlia is braver than you think! She came here in my place didn't she!? And she helped me heal you even knowing what you would have to do to her!"

Odahviing paused, studying the two closely before he said, "I see it now. You are two halves of the same soul. It is no wonder this one," he nudged Eroeh with his nose, pushing her back slightly, "is so reckless and this one," he made to nudge Dahlia, who quickly stepped back, leaving him grinning, "is so cautious."

"We're twins," Eroeh said, "Of course we share a soul."

"Twins...?" Odahviing rumbled thoughtfully, "There is no word for this in our tongue."

Dahlia stepped forward then and said softly, "It means that our mother carried us in her womb at the same time. We were born on the same day."

" _Joor_ are such strange creatures..." he growled.

"Humans," Eroeh corrected him with a smile, "We're not just mortals... we're humans - _people_."

Odahviing grunted and let his head fall so that it rest in the snow. He looked very tired and Eroeh put a gentle hand to his snout and said, "Let us help you."

"So be it," he replied and lifted his wing, revealing a deep gash in his side they'd missed the night before. "I will admit, that one... _nii ahraan_... it aches."

Before they made a move, however, Eroeh spoke up, "Can you promise me something?" His eyes fell on her as he waited for her request. "Swear to me that you won't hurt my sister, that you _won't_ kill the Dragonborn."

His eyelids slowly glossed over his dark orbs before he said, "Since the time of Eira _do Sot Yol_ , Alduin _Thurri_ has called for the death of the _Vahdin do Dovah Yolos_... the Maiden of Dragon Flame. If I allow her to live then I may as well let death take me now."

They stared firmly at one another until Odahviing finally cracked a smile and said with a laugh, "Though I have always enjoyed defying the _pahlok mey_... the arrogant fool who thinks himself better than his brothers. You have my word, Eroeh _fin Bruniik_ ," he rumbled her name, making her blush, "I will not lay my jaws upon the Dovahkiin."

" _Or claws_ ," She added firmly, staring him down fiercely.

Odahviing chuckled again, " _Geh_... you have my oath and a _dov_ never lies."

Eroeh grinned and said, "Good! Now let's see that wound..."

She and Dahlia got to work healing the red beast. They spent a good portion of their day, taking care of all his minor cuts and puncture wounds before finally letting him be to rest.

The two of them rebuilt their small camp a little further in under the overhang and chatted quietly to one another, discussing all manner of things, such as what they would do up on the mountain, what it meant to be Dragonborn, how Dahlia felt about her newfound power and at one point as the sun slowly set, they chanced a glance at the steadily snoozing Dragon Lord and giggled about how sweet he looked when he wasn't being a menacing monster.

At the mention of his name his eyes slowly flit open and he gave a long yawn, lifting his head up and turning it slightly to look on at the two young women. Eroeh smiled brightly at him and asked cheerfully, "How do you feel Odahviing?"

He stretched his wings as much as the space would allow and looked himself over before settling back in and replying, " _Pruzah_... I am well. I thank you for your concern."

Eroeh's smile only grew at his sudden kind words and she said, "I'm so glad." She pulled the supply pack closer and yanked out a small parcel wrapped in cleaned animal hide. She opened it up, revealing four pieces of her favorite pastry within, juniper crostata. She carefully placed them all on a small metal rack they'd set up over the fire and left them there to heat for a moment before quickly removing them with a metal spatula.

She put two of each onto separate plates and passed one to Dahlia. Eroeh took her fork and went to dig into one of the treats when she noticed Odahviing sniffing the air curiously. A mischievous smile curled at her lips and she said, "Would you like to try it?"

He raised his scaly brows and cocked his head at her, "Your mortal food?"

"Yeah!"

"What is it?"

Dahlia was smirking through her own bite of pastry and Eroeh laughed, standing up, "It's just juniper crostata, a pastry we make in our tribe," she carefully slid a piece from her plate and held it out so as not to burn her fingers. Then wiggling her shoulders back and forth she said sing-song, " _I made it myseeelf~!_ "

She bravely stepped forward, holding the dessert out tantalizingly for him and said, "Go ahead and open your mouth." He looked at her skeptically and she laughed, "What? You think I'm going to poison you? If I wanted you dead I'd have let you die last night."

Odahviing grunted and reluctantly opened his maw. She took several steps forward and set the pastry onto his tongue before quickly moving back and said, "Go ahead!"

He closed his massive jaw and she watched with interest as he turned his head this way and that, tasting and savoring the sweet treat. Finally he swallowed the tiny thing and a delighted grin curled at his cheeks, "That was... how do you say... _pruzah_ ," he said trying to form the words.

"Delicious," Dahlia suggested, then blushed as they both looked at her.

Odahviing immediately agreed, " _Geh_... delicious. If Madan had offered me this instead of the beasts to feast upon I would have gladly offered my _suleyk_ , my power to him."

Eroeh threw her hands to her hips and scoffed, "Seriously! You hear that Dahlia? Next time we'll just have to bake a giant juniper crostata instead!"

Dahlia laughed and said, "I don't there's enough juniper berries to make one that big."

Both girls fell into a fit of giggles at the very idea of a mammoth sized pastry and Odahviing looked them both over curiously before he said, " _Joor_... humans are easily amused."

"Well, we like good conversation and great music," Eroeh said, taking a seat next to her sister again.

"I too enjoy your music," he said, "I often hear it echoing up here on my _strunmah_. Some days I will fly nearby to listen as I hunt."

"We should sing him something," Eroeh said.

Dahlia set her plate aside and asked, "What do you want to sing?"

Eroeh grabbed her mother's lute and started strumming it, "The Last Unicorn?"

Dahlia sighed, "Oh I love that song. Mother used to sing it all the time."

"You start," Eroeh said as she played the appropriate tune.

(The Song is _The Last Unicorn_ by Ashley Serena feat. Karliene)

" _When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain  
And the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain  
In the shadow of the forest though she may be old and worn  
They will stare unbelieving at the last unicorn_

 _When the first breath of winter through the flowers is icing  
And you look to the north and a pale moon is rising  
And it seems like all is dying and would leave the world to mourn  
In the distance hear the laughter of the last unicorn_

 _I'm alive, I'm alive  
When the last moon is cast over the last star of morning  
And the future has passed without even a last desperate warning  
Then look into the sky where through the clouds a path is torn  
Look and see how she sparkles, it's the last unicorn_

 _I'm alive, I'm alive._ "

Odahviing listened quietly as the two women sang their hearts out together, just happy to be together and enjoying a song like they did when they were home.

And when they finished, both smiling brightly, he shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the ground then stood up suddenly and flapped hard, taking flight out from under the overhang. He flew high into the sky, roaring loudly at nothing as he wove through the aurora borealis.

"Do you think... we angered him?" Dahlia asked timidly.

"No," Eroeh said firmly, "Not at all." She sounded so sure of herself, then stood up and scrambled up the slope while Dahlia quickly followed. They both stopped by the blank word wall where Odahviing finally swooped down and perched on it. Eroeh shouted up to him, "You felt something didn't you!?"

He refused to look at either of them and held his tongue, but when she demanded again, "DIDN'T YOU!?" He turned his head slightly, evading her sharp gaze and she shouted with a wide smile, "I _knew_ it! We warmed your heart didn't we?"

Odahviing looked back at her and growled, "I do not know what mean."

"Tell me what you felt!"

He moved his legs back and forth on the wall and grumbled, "It is _motmahus_... difficult to explain."

"Can you try?" Dahlia chimed in now more curious than ever.

"My heart... it pounds like a drum within my chest, swift and erratic. My blood it boils as though I am in the presence of another _dov_... but not in a way which angers me. I do not understand this feeling. Perhaps..." He trailed off, thinking hard, trying to understand it himself.

"Perhaps what?" Eroeh asked.

He blinked and focused on her again, "Perhaps it is as my _zeymah_ , my brother Paarthurnax once felt for Eira. But it cannot be... this is not a natural state of being for a _dovah_. Only the _joor_ feel such things."

Eroeh looked at her sister questioningly, "What did Paarthurnax feel for Eira?"

Dahlia was blushing deeply when she said, "Love... Paarthurnax loved Eira."

"Wha-what!?" Eroeh gasped, burning red herself before turning back to Odahviing and shouting, "You _love_ us!?"

"I cannot say," he replied, "I have never felt such things."

" _Oh my gods, he's totally in love with us_ ," Eroeh murmured under her breath, giggling a little.

Dahlia nudged her and hissed, " _Stop, you're embarrassing him_."

They were indeed turning the once frightening and mighty dragon into a sheepish bird as he turned his head again, evading their gaze.

"I told you I could warm your heart!" Eroeh said triumphantly.

"Does... does that mean we get to go home?" Dahlia asked almost giddy.

Both girls were getting excited at the prospect of returning to their tribe when Odahviing snapped his jaws loudly and hissed, " _NID!_ _You cannot leave here!_ " They both looked up at him, distraught and he added quickly, "Not yet. I must train the _Dovahkiin_ to properly use her thu'um."

He flew down from his perch then and landed behind them, "Tell me _Dovahkiin_. What is the word that you have felt prying at your throat since you took the soul of my brother?"

Dahlia hesitated and he threw his head upward and said, "Shout it to the skies. I would hear your thu'um! Release it!"

She took a deep breath then and Eroeh watched as her sister stared up at the moon before shouting, "KRII!" A bright, purplish force of power exploded from her throat and whisked off into the dark of the night.

" _Geeehhh_ ," Odahviing rumbled, pleased by her show of strength. He moved forward and said, "Stand aside humans, I would teach you breath of fire."

The girls hurried out of the way as Odahviing readied himself and roared with all the force in his voice, "YOL TOOR SHUL!" The flames from his throat blast fiercely against the wall and when he stopped they looked around to see the words themselves etched into the stone.

Odahviing nod his head and said, "Go on _Dovahkiin_. Look upon my words and take them into your soul."

Dahlia did just as he commanded and easily absorbed the words before he bestowed her with the knowledge his thu'um. It was then that Dahlia's training as a Dragonborn began. The girls spent more than a month upon the peak of the mountain with the Dragon Lord while he trained Dahlia, teaching her many different thu'ums. They sang their hearts out for him nearly every night as well, keeping him entertained while he in turn ensured their needs were met, bringing them food and warmth which they took from the animal carcasses he caught on his hunts. Dahlia was able to sew together warmer clothing for the both of them and put together plenty of blankets and bedding while Eroeh did all the cooking, keeping them both satisfied with a variety of meals.

One day, as the girls finished singing a song while Odahviing listened, his jowls spreading horn to horn in a broad grin, Eroeh and Dahlia both looked sadly at him. As much as they loved the time they'd spent with the beast, teaching him their ways and learning all they could from him, they'd grown weary of the cold and the solitude of the mountain.

Odahviing took notice and said softly, with a gentleness he'd embraced for them, "I can sense your sorrow young ones... I know why you lament." Both girls looked up at him and he said, "I will take you home."

Their eyes widened and Eroeh breathed, " _Really?_ You're letting us go?"

" _Geh_... It pains me to see you so you both heartbroken and I have seen your _bormahu_ , Madan at the summit on my hunts giving offering and praying before my fire for your safe return. I have decided to grant his wish and return his progeny to him."

"His daughters," Eroeh smiled, correcting him.

"Hmph," he grinned, "Yes... his daughters. Come then, let us make haste."

(Background music _Uźniasieńnie (Ascension)_ by Dzivia and YouTube: _Norse Gains Powerful Viking Music Mix_ )

They both scrambled about, gathering their things together. They'd learned so much from the Dragon Lord and taught him a great deal in return. He'd named them both as well, greeting them as dovah, equal to him. Eroeh became _Eroeh fin Bruniik_ or Eroeh the Wild and Dahlia he called, _Dahlia fin Onik_ or Dahlia the Wise. He encouraged them to use their strengths and remain close together, for without each other they would lose balance and be weaker for it.

Odahviing lowered his head and the girls carefully climbed up, thrilled to be returning home. They each gripped a horn tightly before giving him the go ahead to move. He flapped hard, shunting off the ground and took flight. Eroeh looked beyond excited to be in the sky, while Dahlia held on tightly, fearing a single misstep would send her plummeting down to her death.

She looked over at her giddy sister and then to the sky wondering to herself why Bormahu had chosen her to be the Dragonborn. It made no sense to her. Eroeh seemed like the right choice, being braver and bolder than her, loving the feeling of flying as they swooped up and down through the air. But she was terrified of it all, what it meant for her and what she might have to face in the future.

Eroeh noticed her sister's worried look and touched her hand then, giving her a reassuring smile. Dahlia returned her smile and knew everything would be alright. They had each other. As long as Dahlia had her sister to support her and spur her onward everything would be okay.

But as they drew closer to their village and their hearts leapt with glee, yearning to see their father again, their faces suddenly fell, realizing that it was not just Odahviing's great fire which burned off at the summit, but the entire village that was aflame.

" _NOOO!_ " Eroeh shrieked as they flew overhead and saw the Nords of the Reach overrunning their village, burning it to the ground while their own warriors fought valiantly against the horde, giving their lives to protect their families.

Odahviing gave a vicious and thunderous roar of rage, signaling his arrival, before he threw his head to the sky and shouted, "STRUN BA QO!"

Storm clouds instantly billowed together, forming from nothing and hanging thickly overhead. A downpour began, putting out most of the fires and gave passage to the fleeing tribesmen and women whose way was blocked by fire. Eroeh pointed ahead and cried out, "There's Papa! Please! Let us down there!"

Odahviing roared his assent and swept downward. Great bolts of lightning shot through the sky all around them, piercing the bodies of the Nord raiders down below. Madan cried out fiercely, throwing his crooked sword out and urged his warriors onward. Twenty of their fleet rushed forward attacking an entire army of Nords that were breeching the gates of their village.

Odahviing called back, "SHOUT WITH ME DOVAHKIIN! LET THEM FEEL OUR FIRE!"

The girls held tightly to his horns as he swept sharply downward and both he and Dahlia shouted a flurry of white hot rage at the Nords. Eroeh took the opportunity of his downward sweep to launch herself from his body, aiming for the top of the gates. She landed beside her tribesmen, startling the few closest to her and she shouted, "BOW!"

One of the men quickly tossed both his quiver and bow to her. She strapped it on and leaned over the ledge, swiftly and meticulously firing arrow after arrow into the bodies of the Nords below. Then another Forsworn archer cried out, "Here they come!" Just as the Nords started making their way up the stairs, blocking the onslaught of arrows coming their way with steel and iron shields. Eroeh stowed the bow back and drew both daggers. She lunged forward getting low to the ground as she raced right up to the shielded Nords, and threw her legs forward, allowing her to slide underneath them, between their legs and down the slippery steps. She held her daggers out, cutting into the softest parts of their legs, aiming for their arteries. She knew she managed to get quite a few as she slid down, winding her way through their legs and spraying viscous amounts of blood as she went. She came to an immediate halt at the bottom though when her feet met a Nord's shield and he went to lunge his sword at her. But Dahlia appeared, from within the crowd and shouted, "FUS RO DAH!" Sending all the enemies spinning. She grabbed her sister's arm, pulling her up and Eroeh grinned broadly at her, rubbing the seat of her ass and said, "Thanks! But where's Papa?"

Dahlia looked up the hill where Odahviing was on the ground, viciously tearing into plenty of Nords that made it through their defenses. Madan was nearby, fighting alongside the great Dragon Lord while the sister hagravens Silva and Gritta, stood at the edge of Bard's Leap, launching powerful fireballs from their vantage point. The girls ran up the hill together, looking to help their father. They watched as he tore out the throat of the last Nord near him with his jagged blade and called out to Odahviing, pointing down at the wall. The Dragon Lord nodded his head and took flight again, setting off to fortify their defenses from the onslaught.

The moment Madan saw them his face cringed with a mixture of overwhelming relief and joy. He closed the space between them and embraced them both tightly and sobbed, "My girls, my beautiful girls! Odahviing told me you were well, but to see you for myself - _gods_ ," he pulled back looking them both over with tears in his eyes, smearing his war paint. "Thank Bormahu you're both alright."

"Papa, you won't believe it, Dahlia, she's -"

"Dragonborn, yes I know. Lord Odahviing told me. This is good, _more_ than good," he grasped Dahlia's shoulders and said, "You must head to the summit and use the power of your thu'um to protect the women and children," then he looked at Eroeh, "Both of you must go now!"

"But Father," Dahlia protested, "We can fight with you!"

Madan stared at her, stunned by her brash notion, one he would have expected from Eroeh, not her. He shook his head smiling, "We need you with the others. I need _you_ to protect them. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes Father," Dahlia relented, lowering her head slightly. He pressed a hand to her cheek and kissed the crown of her head. "My wisest child," he nodded, "I am entrusting them to you."

He turned to Eroeh then and pulled her into an embrace, kissing the crown of her head too, "And my little wildflower, stay safe, look out for the others. The children will be looking to you."

Eroeh nodded and Madan quickly left them both, aiming for the wall once more but they were all caught off guard when a group of twenty or more Nords appeared from along the walls and rushed him and the few other Forsworn warriors standing by.

(Background Music Loop _Sad Strings - War_ by Lucas King)

Eroeh and Dahlia shrieked in horror as their father was impaled on a vicious blond Nord's sword. Then Eroeh, lost in her own grief and rage rushed forward, holding her daggers in hand. She immediately started to tear into the Nords but was quickly overwhelmed. Dahlia made to attack using her thu'um, but stood no chance when ten more Nords that had scaled the walls snuck up on her. One of them hit her hard over the head with the butt of his sword, knocking her unconscious.

The horrible sounds of women screaming and wailing around her are what roused her. Dahlia opened her eyes. Her vision was a blur and she felt extremely groggy. She blinked several times and saw the women of her tribe being violated before her very eyes. Some of them were stripped of their clothes, nude and pinned down while the Nordic invaders violently rut into and against them. The older women were tied up and screaming and pleading for their daughters, begging for mercy. Eshne was with them, screaming the loudest, only it was not for any child of her own, but for Eroeh.

Dahlia looked up and saw her sister struggling uselessly against a blond Nord man, the same Nord man that had murdered their father. He had her by the wrists and was swiping the flat edge of one of her own daggers up and down her body, slowly and tauntingly tearing at her furs with each swipe. Dahlia could see the wicked grin spread across his lips as he sought to violate her twin.

Then she felt someone tugging at her legs, spreading them apart and she looked back, horrified to see a Nord man yanking his trousers down, preparing to rape her along with the others. It was Eroeh's pained scream which set her off and sent her into a blind rage, however. Dahlia shouted fire into the face of the Nord man on top of her, melting his flesh from his bones. He fell back howling in agony and she grasped a sword laying nearby, standing and staggering on her legs heavily.

She was unaware of her own actions at that point, rushing wildly about with the power of her thu'um, plunging the blade into the guts of the men violating her people. Over and over again she stabbed them, even beheading several in her wrath. But when she went to save her sister, the man raping her had all but vanished. Eroeh pushed herself up from the ground, getting to her knees and reached for her, screaming something incoherent just as Dahlia felt a hand wrapping tightly around her arm and the sharp edge of a dagger pressing against her throat. She had no chance to shout before it slid sharply against her neck. Her jugular was torn open and her blood sprayed rapidly from her open wound. The Nord man laughed maniacally and let her go so that she slumped down, falling onto her side. Then a loud roar echoed over the mountain village and the Nord man took off, running for cover as Lord Odahviing circled overhead, seeking to pick off the remaining Nordic invaders.

Eroeh, half naked, crawled to her sister and clutched at her shoulders. She sobbed and screamed into the night, begging the gods, begging Bormahu to bring her sister back. She grasped her sister's face as the rain pattered them, masking her tears and shrieked at the top of her voice, "DAHLIAAAA! _DAHLIA PLEASE! NO! DAHLIA!"_

Eshne stooped beside her, having been freed by the other women Dahlia had saved. She fell to her knees and held Eroeh, sobbing and attempted to soothe her. But it was no use. There was a hole in her heart that was gone now and nothing could ever fill it. Her father and her sister were dead and gone and nothing would ever bring them back.

She was so lost in her own grief that she didn't even see the bird-like feet of Silva and Gritta standing near her. They spoke, hissing great promises to her, "There is still time."

"Yes, yes, still time."

"We can save her, we can save the Dragonborn."

"Oh yes, the Dragonborn, we cannot lose her. Too powerful, she must live on."

Eroeh sniffled looking up at the witches as they offered her a small glimmer of hope. She cringed and sobbed, " _Please bring her back_."

"Eroeh," Eshne pleaded, shaking her head, "No good can come of it..."

But Eroeh ignored the old woman, pulling her sister's lifeless body up with her and threw an arm over her shoulder, carrying her with all the strength she had left. "Show me."

The hagravens grinned wickedly, unable to hide it, but Eroeh didn't care. If it meant her sister would be returned to her she would do anything. Dahlia was her other half, she couldn't live without her.

She followed Gritta and Silva back to their small part of the camp and stepped into the witchy workstation.

"We know how you feel," one of them said.

"Yes, yes, if Gritta were to die, I would do anything to bring her back."

" _Oh yeesss_ and I for Silva as well. There," she pointed to the ritual table, "Set her upon the table, we must work quickly."

Eroeh drug her sister's body up onto the stone surface and gently touched her pale face. Her lips had turned blue and her eyes stayed open, staring lifelessly at the sky.

"Now you," Silva said. Eroeh looked at her confused and she elaborated, "Join her upon the table. We must give you her heart and replace hers with that of a briarheart."

Before she had a chance to ask anything more Gritta grasped her shoulders and said as softly as a hagraven could, "With the heart of the Dragonborn, you shall take her place. You will carry on with the power of the thu'um. She will not be able to speak you see..."

Eroeh looked at them wide-eyed and Silva said, "Her throat has been cut... her vocal chords are torn to shreds. We cannot save them. But she will live. You must do this! The Dragonborn must survive and so in turn your sister will be revived!"

(Background Music _The Shadows Hymn_ by Peter Gundry)

Eroeh relented, unable to argue further. She just wanted her twin back. She climbed onto the table and laid beside her sister, holding her cold hand as she did so. The rain continued to batter them as the hagraven sisters set to work, immediately casting acid green magic all around them and chanting wildly. Each of the witches took a side, one standing over Dahlia and the other standing over Eroeh, both holding knives.

They spoke an incantation together, " _Heart of thorn... bones of the wild... in life, Forsworn... rise from death... Blood of our Blood..._ " And with that both of them buried their knives into the chests of the twins, but only Eroeh gasped with pain.

She could hardly move as some force of magic held her down. The witches cackled madly as they tore the hearts from both girls' bodies. Eroeh felt like she was dying, she _wanted_ to die, the pain was indescribable. She couldn't understand why she was still alive at all. Gritta carefully placed Eroeh's heart in a jar of fluid before Silva passed her Dahlia's heart. Gritta held the heart of the Dragonborn over Eroeh and spoke in a language she could not understand before ripping her chest cavity open again and burying her sister's heart into her body. Beside her Silva worked on Dahlia, pressing a simple briarheart into her chest. The two of them sealed the girl's chests up then, weaving a sharp needle and thick thread through them both.

When they finished they spoke another incantation. Eroeh gasped again and sat upright, clutching her chest. It felt like it was on fire, it burned so much within. The sound of her sister choking on her own breath distracted her from the pain, however, and she turned and looked on at her wonderful, beautiful, _living, breathing_ twin as she sat upright. Eroeh embraced her and sobbed into her shoulder, "Dahlia! Dahlia! You're alive! I can't believe you're alive!"

Eroeh pulled back and looked into her sister's face, knitting her brows together. Something was off though as she merely stared vacantly back with no emotion. Eroeh's lip trembled and she cried, "What's wrong with her?"

The hagraven sisters shook their heads before one finally said, "Give it time. She must adjust to her new heart. She will be well in due time..."

" _Yeeesss_... go on then. Take your place as the chief of your people _Dragonborn_... you must guide them in these trying times."

Eroeh climbed off the table, tugging her sister along with her. Thankfully Dahlia followed, although mindlessly so.

She slowly walked to the summit, the rain had come to a near halt, only drizzling lightly. Eroeh clutched her twin's hand, unwilling to let her go and found most of the survivors of her tribe seated around Odahviing's bonfire mourning those they lost that day and healing the wounded.

The Dragon Lord stood at the edge of the peak, looking over the edge, keeping watch for anymore invaders. Eshne was busy healing a wounded Forsworn warrior when she looked up and saw Eroeh disheveled in torn up furs, but her chest stitched together with thick thread. The old woman threw her hands to her mouth and stared in utter shock with the others of their tribe as Eroeh idly walked by them all.

Eshne breathed, "Eroeh... _your hair_."

Eroeh stopped for a moment and grasped the long strands falling around her shoulders. They were a soft white instead of the dark-brown she'd known her whole life. It didn't matter though. She ignored it and moved on heading straight for the Dragon Lord perched at the edge of the summit.

"Odahviing," she said hoarsely.

He looked back and he too seemed shocked by her appearance, " _Dovahkiin_ ," he cocked his head, "Something is different about you..."

"It's me, Eroeh," she said.

He turned his head back and forth before lowering it and looking closely at her, "What is this _lah?_ This magic? How can you be the _Dovahkiin?_ "

Eroeh gently placed a hand to her chest and said, "I have her heart. The hagravens gave me Dahlia's heart..."

He turned his gaze from Eroeh and looked on at Dahlia and asked poignantly, "I cannot sense her life force. What has happened to _Dahlia fin Onik?_ "

Eroeh released her sister's hand and fell to her knees. She knew then that Dahlia was truly dead. The person standing there was nothing more than a thrall, a reanimated corpse. Eroeh wailed painfully to the skies and her tribesmen and Odahviing looked on at her mournfully.

One month went by and Eroeh was named chieftain of their tribe. She tried to fill her role as best she could, for the sake of her people and attempted to bring them back together and rebuild what little remained.

Odahviing stayed close by, visiting her on a near daily basis, training her in the thu'um and serving as their guardian and protector. He'd become much more compassionate in all the time he spent with her and her sister on the mountain and now he seemed to truly care for them and if not for the rest of her tribe, he at least cared for her.

Dahlia remained a vacant and lifeless thrall of a creature. The hagravens did everything they could to restore some semblance of humanity to the woman to no avail. And with each passing day Eroeh grew more and more angry, remembering the Nord that got away. The one that violated her, taking her maidenhead and who murdered both her father and her sister. He'd taken everything from her and she was desperate for vengeance.

Eshne tried to turn her away from the dark path she was slowly stepping onto, but it was the only thing that kept her going. It fueled her anger and hatred and shattered her entire being. She'd become but a shadow of the woman she once was.

Eroeh spent most of her time hidden away in her tent, buried in a world of books, seeking an escape from her cruel reality. Eventually she came across a certain book which piqued her interest more than ever. And one night, when the crescent moon hung high in the sky and her people had long since fallen into deep slumber, she swept out of the village and made her way into the nearby forests.

She crept into a small clearing and knelt over the Black Sacrament she'd put together over the last week. She held her dagger out, clutching it and trembling as her tears traced her cheeks. She'd chanted to it every night for the past three nights, waiting for someone to arrive. But instead of reciting the words she'd said hundreds of times over, she sang her pain to the emptiness.

(The Song is _Deep End_ by Ruelle)

 _"Where can I go?  
When the shadows are calling  
Shadows are calling me  
What can I do?  
When it's pulling me under  
Pulling me underneath_

 _It's getting close  
I lose control  
It's taking over."_

In the distance a tall man, cloaked in long black robes and a cowl stepped through the forests. He heard the beautiful and heartbreaking song and followed it before stopping near a tree.

Eroeh looked up at the man and he lowered his cowl, revealing his sharp pointed ears, yellow skin and long dark-brown hair. He crossed his arms over, his faintly glowing eyes cut sharply at her and when he spoke in a low voice, he revealed two pointed canines, "Are you the one called Eroeh?"

She slowly pushed herself off the ground, while her song still permeated the air despite the fact she'd stopped singing herself. She'd grown accustomed to calling forth music from nothingness and it often continued without the need for her to say the words herself.

"Yes, I'm Eroeh."

"Tell me then Eroeh, whose life do you seek to extinguish from this plane of existence?"

"The Nord that murdered my family," she said angrily.

"I thought as much. The Night Mother spoke to me. She told me what happened to you and your tribe. She has given me the name of his location," he took several steps forward and held out a slip of paper for her, "This is our fee."

Eroeh took it, looking it over before she looked back up at the tall Altmer and said, "It's fine. I can pay it but I have one more request." He looked at her curiously and she said, " _I_ want to kill him."

Bishop roused to the sound of someone singing in the distance. He rubbed his head with one hand and said groggily, "Ugh, you'd think Sanguine could make a wine that doesn't give you a fucking hangover," the prior night's events started to slowly come back to him and he muttered, "Ah fuck Ladyship... I think we might've done something really stupid last night... Ladyship? Rona?" He looked to his side where she'd been sleeping and immediately started to panic. She was gone, she'd left him again, only this time in the middle of the night. Or had she?

He heard Karnwyr then, growling from under the bed. Bishop stood up, dressed only in his underwear and bent over slightly looking down at the wolf, "The hell has you so worked up boy?" Then he figured out Karnwyr's line of sight and looked over at the dresser where he saw Mehrunes' Razor gently glowing red. His heart pound in his chest and the voice from outside became more prominent in his ears.

" _I'm lost in the deep end..._

 _I'm lost in the deep end_ ..."

It was not her voice though and it did not sound right. Bishop grabbed his dagger and ran out their room, not even bothering to look around. Everything in his being told him she was outside. He burst out the door and ran down the steps, racing through the snow towards the lake. In the distance he saw the white-haired Dragonborn, mostly translucent standing at the edge of the water, staring down at the ice. When he finally reached her he saw Rona floating beneath the ice. He jumped into action, his adrenaline moving him as he leapt onto the ice and started slamming his dagger into it repeatedly, desperately carving out an opening.

Rona felt herself being pulled out of the darkness, the sound of rushing water filled her ears once more, then the biting cold took over and she tried to scream. She felt thick arms wrap tightly around her body pulling her out of the water. The moment her head broke the surface she gasped for air and heard Bishop crying out, "I've got you Ladyship! I've got you! Hold on!"

He drug her back onto shore and she coughed and sputtered, spitting up water. He rubbed her back, looking her over, deeply worried. Then she gave a series of shuddering shivers and he immediately scooped her up into his arms and held her close to his body as he hurried back up to the inn.

He rushed inside and quickly set her down by the hearth fire while she continued to tremble madly, clutching at her shoulders and dressed in nothing more than what was now an oversized, sheer shirt. Bishop ran back into their room and hurried out carrying several blankets in his arms. He fell beside her and quickly bundled her up, wrapping her tightly in the warm cloth then held her close to him. Still soaking wet himself he sobbed into her ear pleading with her, "How do I save you Rona? _How do I save you?_ "

She leaned into him, with every single horror she'd just seen still fresh in her mind and said mournfully, "It's a curse, Bishop. No one can ever save us."


	14. Chapter 14 The Calm Before The Storm

**Chapter 14**

 **The Calm Before The Storm**

After warming her up and making sure she was okay, Bishop returned to their shared room and collected Mehrunes' Razor. Without touching the cursed artifact he wrapped it up in a cloth and went outside where he chucked it hard across the lake. It splashed in at a spot where the water hadn't frozen over and sank to the bottom.

Rona knew it was useless though. They could leave it at the bottom of the deepest Dwemer Ruin and freeze it over in never-melting ice from the Throat of the World, and it would still find her, the Daedric Prince of Destruction would definitely make sure of that.

The two of them spent the night hardly sleeping at all. Rona tossed and turned as her mind worked over the horrors of Eroeh and Dahlia's story and when she finally gave up trying to rest, as the sun slowly rose, Bishop started in with the questioning. He was pulling his trousers on when he asked, "So what happened out there? Why were you in the lake? Did you fall in or...?"

He looked over at her as she struggled to tug her own leather pants on with only one good hand. "Just another Dragonborn trying to," she grunted, pulling one side of her pants up her hips, "trying to show me something."

" _By drowning you?_ "

She avoided eye contact with him and said, "I don't know and to be honest I don't really want to talk about it." She was getting irritated not only with trying to dress herself but with his accusatory tone. It's not like she _chose_ to be Dragonborn or even wanted to have a bunch of ghostly women follow her around all the time showing her the horrors of their past lives.

She grumbled, gritting her teeth, as she attempted to pull the other half of her pants on. Bishop stood up and stepped in front of her. He pushed her hand away and tucked his thumbs into the sides of her leathers and said, "Lift your butt."

Rona smirked at him and pushed herself off the bed allowing him to pull her pants all the way over her hips, he also inadvertently pulled her right up against him so that their bare upper bodies pressed together. She looked up into his gentle golden eyes. His expression was etched with nothing but concern and worry for her. She gave him a reassuring smile and cupped her hand to his cheek, "I'm fine. Really."

He leaned into her hand and wrapped his arms securely around her holding her close to him. He said nothing more about it. He was showing her with his actions that he would protect her and keep her safe. As futile as it was, she appreciated the gesture all the same.

"Come on," she said, urging him to move, "Mind helping me finish dressing so we can get to Whiterun?"

He pulled away from her and nodded. Bishop helped her into the rest of her clothes and struggled with the lacing on the front of her leather cuirass, partly because he kept finding a reason to kiss, fondle and tease her breasts until she finally warned him with a flirty smirk, "Don't make me shout you across the lake ranger."

Of course, this only seemed to spur him on more as he cupped one breast in hand, tracing her nipple with his thumb through the fabric and curled the other into her hair behind her head. He leaned in close to her face and said breathily, "Can't shout if your mouth is full." She started blushing bright red at that remark and he took the opportunity to steal a passionate kiss from her. 

She moaned under his mouth and finally pulled from his grasp, still blushing and breathing a little faster, " _Bishop_..."

He grinned wolfishly at her, " _Yeess_ , Princess?"

She was amazed at how easily he fell back into step with his flirty behavior and as much as she wanted to fall right back into bed with him she was eager to move on from the snowy inn by the road.

"We really have to get going," she urged him and made to tie her laces on her own again. Bishop sighed, smirking a little and reluctantly laced her up. He did leave it a little loose and sloppy in places but it would have to do until she had her hand healed. He finished dressing himself and the two of them plus Karnwyr set off again in another carriage for Whiterun.

Rona found herself feeling both anxious and excited to return there. She hadn't seen her little brother or any of the Companions in so long and had chosen to avoid Whiterun in all her time away. She worried that they would be disappointed with her for the choices she'd made but she really wanted to see her old friends and especially Nelkir.

They passed by the local farmlands, leaving most of the wintery snow behind them. Rona was taking in all the sights, sitting up on her knees in the cart and watching the people working in the fields and the Stormcloak soldiers as they made their rounds. She hardly noticed the fact that she was fidgeting in her seat so much until Bishop spoke up, chuckling slightly, "You alright there, Ladyship? Need to stop and take a piss?"

"What?" She blushed, glancing back at him.

He grinned at her, "Excited to see everyone again?"

She turned back towards him and swung her legs over the edge of the bench. "A little… They're not angry with me, are they?"

Bishop laughed, "Hardly. Everyone's just been worried about you. Nelkir will be happy to see you, I can guarantee that. Hope you're ready for all the hugs you can handle, especially from that munchkin."

Rona smiled, "Looking forward to it actually. How are they by the way? When did you see them last?"

"Been a while," he said scratching the back of his head, "I sorta ran off a few months back after we took down a dragon right around here. It actually burned up on us and I followed its soul looking for you. But last time I saw Nelkir, kid was getting muscles as big as Farkas," he smirked at her and she looked at him wide-eyed. "Okay, so maybe not that big, but he's definitely been working on them."

Rona laughed and said, "I can't wait to see him."

"The sister's four are doing good too," he added, "They've all been living out at Jorrvaskr, except for Venus. She's been apprenticing with Eorlund's wife so she usually stays with them," he cocked a brow at her, "You know what that means right?"

"Hm?"

"We have your old place _all_ to _ourselves_ ," he flashed her a charming grin.

Rona sighed, "I don't know… After last night," her face fell as she vaguely remembered their drunken stupidity.

He crossed his arms and cleared his throat saying, "Uh yeah… about that," then he looked back, locking eyes with her and sounded hopeful as he said, "Think you'll be alright? I mean, we had this happen once before and well…"

Rona scoffed at him, "Bishop… you're one of _ten_ siblings and my parents spent a single drunk night together that resulted in me," she laughed, "we'd have to be damn lucky for it not to take."

He turned his head frowning and muttered, "Shit… I'm sorry, Ladyship. I don't know what I was thinking last night."

" _We_ weren't thinking," she said, "Sanguine was doing all the thinking for us. Daedric Prince of Debauchery and all that," she smiled at him then stood up and moved to his side of the bench curling up right next to him. He threw an arm around her shoulder and she hugged him around the waist with her good arm. "I don't regret it."

" _Really?_ " He asked raising a brow.

"Really," she affirmed, trying to sound confident.

There was a quiet pause between them before Bishop exhaled saying, "So… think the World-Eater can wait nine months?" He said it jokingly but Rona's stomach turned a little. The very idea that she might have to fight Alduin in that state was terrifying. It was one thing to risk her own life for the sake of the world, but to risk that of her unborn child's? She couldn't bear the thought and hoped that they really hadn't made a huge mistake.

She pressed her cheek closer to his chest and said, "Whatever happens Bishop, I'm just glad it's with you." She tried to hide her fear but had a feeling it showed from the slight quaver in her voice because Bishop only hugged her tighter under his arm.

The carriage wove around the cobblestone path, passing by a few more farms and Honningbrew Meadery. It came to a stop just outside the city by the stables. Karnwyr hopped out of the carriage and they both climbed out after him and made their way up the hill.

At the top, while Bishop approached the gates, Rona stopped for a moment to look out across the fields surrounding Whiterun. She was amazed by the number of Stormcloak soldiers that were stationed there. It was obvious that Ulfric was rallying his troops and preparing to march on Markarth. They even had ten or more siege weapons standing by out in the fields surrounded by dozens upon dozens of tents where the soldiers were making their homes until they were given orders to move. She watched as they went about, mostly clustered together in small groups, laughing and smiling together while others were being served lunch around several makeshift dining areas.

They were all just normal people going about their lives, fighting for their homeland. She could hardly blame them and she really admired their fortitude. To be so strong during such hard times, she could only imagine what brought each of them there. If their stories were anything like Risla's and Hamvak's though, it was because of some tragedy brought on by the Thalmor.

If only Ulfric really knew the truth, that the Thalmor were just using him to keep the Empire weakened. She felt compelled to speak to him then, to tell him the truth. But would he even believe her?

Bishop grasped her shoulder and gave her a concerned look, "Comin' Ladyship?"

"Yeah," she said quickly and turned back towards the gates. Fortunately, with her hood up and her ears covered, she looked more Nordic than Altmer and the sentries hardly paid her or Bishop any mind as they passed through.

She was greeted by the familiar sights and smells of the city and was pleased to see it had been repaired almost to its original state before the Stormcloak siege nearly a year before. They passed by her old home as well and saw that the roof and side wall had been completely restored.

As they approached the market square, which was busy and bustling with townsfolk and soldiers at that time of day, Rona noticed Venus standing at one of the stalls nearest to The Bannered Mare. Her tawny brown hair was tied neatly to the side of her head, and her blue eyes sparkled just as Rona remembered her. The only difference being that the half-Imperial woman had a broad smile on her face as she called, "Bits and baubles! All crafted by the best blacksmith in Skyrim!"

Rona was even more stunned when Venus spotted Bishop in the crowd and smiled wider calling out, "Bishop! You're back!"

She came running around the jewelry stall and gave him a big hug. He chuckled, patting her on the back and said, "Good to see you, Venus. I gotta say, the smile really suits you."

She scoffed and punched him in the arm, scowling a little, "Oh shut it! I have to keep up appearances if I want the business."

"Right, because you're really not that much happier, are you?" He said sarcastically.

She smirked at him and said, "Alright, you got me. There's hardly a day that goes by anymore when I'm not smiling ear to ear. I mean, I'm working my dream job and apprenticing with one of the best jewelers and probably the best blacksmith in all of Skyrim. What more could a girl ask for?"

Bishop laughed and said, "I'm really happy for you Venus, you finally found your calling."

"Mmhm!" She smiled then her attention drifted to Rona and she said, "Oh, who's this?"

Rona carefully lowered her hood and smiled slightly, "Hi Venus, it's been a while."

Venus' eyes widened and her mouth dropped for a moment before she threw herself at Rona and pulled her into a tight hug, "BY THE GODS YOU'RE ALIVE!" She thrust Rona back by the shoulders and blurt right at Bishop, "YOU FOUND HER! Oh my gods! Nelkir is going to be thrilled! And Aela! Oh! You have to go see them all right away!" Then she gasped looking her over, "What happened to your hand? And your hair!?"

Rona laughed, "Uh... long story about the hand. But we were just headed to Jorrvaskr-"

"Oooh! I can't wait to hear all about what you've been up to! Let's go! Let's go!" Venus took her by her good hand and started dragging her along towards the stairs leading up to the Wind District. She called to another woman at a produce stand, "Carlotta! Keep an eye on my stand for a bit! I have to run up to Jorrvaskr!"

The Imperial woman shouted back, "Sure thing Venus! And if you see Mila on your way up send her down to me, it's about lunchtime!"

"You got it!"

"Hey! Wait for me!" Bishop called at their backs as both Venus and Rona hurried up the stairs.

Karnwyr was getting excited too and started running circles around them all before darting forward right for Jorrvaskr. Rona looked on at the enormous Mead Hall with the overturned ship for a roof. It felt so good to be back like she was home again, but at the same time, she was worried and anxious to see everyone. 

Instead of going right inside, however, Venus pulled her along and around the building towards the training yard. She could smell the forge and hear loud clanking sounds as Eorlund did his metal work up at the Skyforge. As they rounded the building Rona could hear the sounds of several children shouting but her heart started racing when she heard Nelkir's commanding voice, deeper than usual.

"Alright whelps! It's time to whip you into shape! And I don't wanna hear any bellyaching from any of you lot!"

A boy snickered back sarcastically, "Sure thing _Harbinger_."

"Yeah, whatever you say _Nelkie!_ " A little girl giggled.

"Hey! What'd I say about that name!?" He really would have sounded more authoritative if not for the fact that the last word squeaked out of him. The group of children burst into laughter and Rona caught sight of a very red-faced Nelkir as they approached the porch-side of Jorrvaskr. "It's not funny!" He snapped, squeaking still as his voice indicated that he was a boy becoming a young man.

Rona couldn't keep the smile from her face seeing him again. Bishop was right when he'd said Nelkir had grown. He was at least an entire foot taller from the last time she saw him, standing at about five and a half feet and while he wasn't extremely muscular he was definitely in the process of working on a lean build. He was tall and lanky and looking more like Balgruuf than she remembered. Although he still had their mother's deep red locks and freckled face.

Venus let go of Rona's hand and ran across the way, "Nelkir! Guess who's back!"

Nelkir looked over to see Bishop waving at him as he smiled and said, "Hey kid. Been a while."

Nelkir's face lit up and he shouted, "Bishop!"

He made to move but stopped at the sight of Rona standing there. She smiled sheepishly at him and waved awkwardly, "Hi Nelkir…"

His lower lip trembled and his face screwed up as he tried to hold back his mounting tears. In an instant, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace. They both broke into tears then and she pat him on the back, trying to console him while he mumbled nonsensically into her hair, "Where were you? Why'd you leave? I was so worried about you! Everyone was! _Rona, why?_ Why'd you go? Didn't you want to see me?"

"Oh, Nelkir… sweetie," she choked out and squeezed his lanky frame tighter, "Of course I wanted to see you. I've missed you so much," she pulled away from him, wiping away her tears and laughing a little as she looked him up and down, "I can't believe how tall you got!"

He swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes, laughing a little, "Yeah… Vilkas keeps trying to convince me I'm part mammoth. You should see Dagny though, she got a little taller too."

Rona sniffled and smiled, "Is she here?"

"No," he shook his head, "We went up to Solitude a month ago to visit her and Elisif. She's still studying at the Bard's College. She really loves it and she's doing so great."

"And your brother?" Rona regretted asking the moment she saw the look on his face.

Nelkir's eyes darted away and he said, "Yeah. Frodnar's grown too. He's still learning lots from Falk Firebeard," then he looked back at her and cocked an eyebrow. "You changed your hair? And your eyes?"

She nodded solemnly, "It was necessary. I hope you'll understand..."

Nelkir sniffled and said, "I don't care about that. I'm just glad you're back and I'm so glad you're alive."

In that moment the Companions themselves all came out. Aela was the first to come onto the patio and her eyes lit up as a wide smile curled at her lips and she shouted, "DAMN GIRL! HAH! IT'S BEEN TOO LONG!" Rona smiled brightly back as Aela headed their way followed by Venus and Bast, the young woman having grown a little more herself. Her bushy lion's mane of hair had been cut off short so it curled wildly just below her ears. Qetesh and Vilkas stepped out next absolutely beaming at them and then Rona went wide-eyed when she saw Farkas gently guiding a heavily pregnant Freya along. Although she looked somewhat uncomfortable, cradling her protruding belly, she was grinning ear to ear. The only one looking completely disgruntled, as though someone had abruptly woken him from a nap was Athis, who stood back against a wall with his arms crossed while everyone else surrounded Rona and Bishop giving them hugs and the warmest welcome home.

Bishop looked over Freya and shouted, "Gods be damned woman! I could hardly see the pup last time I was here! What happened!?"

Freya smirked and said, "Bishop it's been three months since you were here. Don't act all surprised."

He rubbed at the back of his head, chuckling and said, "Sure you're not carrying twins?"

"Gods I hope not," Qetesh blurt out.

"How far along are you?" Rona said marveling at her rounded out figure.

"According to Danica about six or seven months," she said smiling down as she pat her own belly, "Won't be long now before we finally get to meet our little one."

Rona smiled brightly at her and Farkas, "Congratulations to you both, really. I couldn't be happier for the two of you."

"Thank you," Farkas said, not even trying to hide the broad grin of fatherly pride on his face.

Aela gripped Rona on the shoulder and said, "So? We want to hear all about what you've been up to! Come inside and we'll talk over drinks and lunch!"

Rona nodded in agreement and she and Bishop were both ushered into the Mead Hall, with all of Aela's young charges following and watching curiously as they whispered, "That's Nelkir's sister right?"

"But doesn't that mean?"

"Yeah, she's the Dragonborn."

"Whoa..."

"No way!"

"It's true, I met her once before back in Solitude."

"Come on you two! Take a seat - and Tilma!" Aela called to the elderly maid of Jorrvaskr, "Get us a tray of our finest wines, brandies and all the rest! We're celebrating!"

Rona sat down between Aela and Bishop at the head of the table while the others took their respective seats along the rest of the U-shaped table. Aela pressed an elbow to the wood surface, leaning on her hand as she grinned at Rona, "I like the new look."

Rona shrugged, "It's kept me safe."

"And well hidden I'm sure," Aela added and then she started going on telling her all about everything she'd missed in her time away. They introduced the new orphaned recruits to her, a young girl named Sofie from Windhelm and a Redguard boy named Alesan from Dawnstar. And although Rona had already met them once before, Blaise the boy from Solitude and Lucia who was from Whiterun shyly reintroduced themselves as well.

Vilkas laughed about how they'd gone about recruiting them in their travels and Qetesh shared a wild story of their fight against an angry dragon that was threatening Dawnstar early on in their journey, even regaling her with Nelkir's valiant attempt to rescue and protect several of the locals, much to his embarrassment. Rona was amused to see him blush just as hard as she could but praised him for his efforts all the same, making him turn several shades darker in the face.

Tilma arrived shortly with plenty of drinks on hand and started serving them all. Rona enjoyed hearing all their stories and was stunned to find out that Qetesh and Vilkas had something of a thing going on between them. Qetesh laughed loudly motioning to Freya and Farkas, "We're taking it a little slower than these two lovebirds over here!"

"Oh shush!" Freya pouted, as she pressed a hand to her belly, "This little one was completely unexpected!"

Qetesh snorted, "Well when you're getting it on like a pair of sabre cats in heat every night!"

The table erupted in laughter and Freya pursed her lips at them all. Vilkas turned to Rona and Bishop saying through his own chuckling, "Would have been nice to have you both at the wedding, but we had to rush things once we realized she was expecting and you two were all the way out in Cyrodiil at the time."

"Be glad you missed it," Venus scoffed, "What a nightmare that was. Never seen anyone so particular about a last minute wedding. Talk about your bride of dragons over here."

Rona chuckled as the older sisters continued to give Freya a hard time and Bast merely watched in quiet amusement while she chewed on a piece of bread. Even Aela joined in teasing her a bit and Farkas gently consoled her when she started to whine and pout. Everyone was getting along and having a good time. Even Athis managed to crack a few jokes and laughed a bit as he threw back plenty of drinks.

When Tilma came back around refilling their beverages and serving their food she'd noticed Rona hadn't touched her wine.

"Oh? Is the wine not to your liking, Lady Dragonborn?"

Rona blushed, "Uh no, it's fine."

"Should drink up girl," Aela encouraged, "Now that you're here it's time to relax a little. I don't want you even thinking about fighting any dragons while you're visiting."

Rona shrugged and said, "I'm just trying to cut back on the drinking. Water is fine."

Aela raised a brow at her while sipping on her own glass of brandy. Rona felt Bishop put his hand above her knee and she glanced over at him. He gave her a reassuring smile and said, "This is time for you to enjoy yourself, Ladyship. Even if you don't drink, just, try to relax, okay?"

"Right," she said taking a deep breath. She looked back to Tilma and smiled and said, "Water will be fine, Tilma, thank you."

"Right away m'lady."

Aela set her beverage aside and laced her fingers together in front of her, pausing for a moment as she looked over the unique band of mercenaries she'd cobbled together over the last ten months. The others were busy chattering among themselves. Freya and Farkas were entirely absorbed in each other as she lovingly fed him several bites of food off her fork while the group of kids across the table all made faces and retched and giggled at them. Qetesh and Vilkas were busy going over several contracts and Nelkir was asking Bast for tips on marksmanship while Athis sat by downing another pint of mead and yawned out, "Where's the food already? I'm starving!"

Aela let out a low sigh and said, "What a band of misfits we've got now."

"It's amazing what you've done," Rona said eyeing the group of happy children across the table, "You've given them something they've needed for a long time."

Aela cocked her head and laughed, "And what would that be?"

"Discipline, stability, companionship... _family_ ," Rona replied looking right at her old friend.

Aela smirked slightly and waved a hand, "Bah... gave them a sword and a bed is all I did."

"That's not true," Bishop said with a swig of his drink, "I'd have killed for all of this when I was their age. I mean shit, just look at how happy they are all," he nodded to Nelkir who was blushing and smiling as Bast patiently showed him one of her arrowheads, "And look at Nelkir. He went from being one of the most spoiled, nasty brats I'd ever met in my life to someone humble, respectable and strong. He probably wouldn't even be here right now if it weren't for you Harbinger."

Aela looked over at him, a tinge of blush tracing her cheeks, "Never heard you call me Harbinger before."

"As far as I'm concerned, you've earned that title Aela. You've done good."

She scoffed and rubbed a hand over her face incredulously, "Even after everything?"

"Even after _everything_ ," Bishop added firmly and looked right at her, "I forgive you."

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and nearly whispered, "Thank you."

"No, thank _you,_ Aela," Rona said smiling up at her, "Thank you for taking such good care of my brother and for keeping the Companions together."

She was surprised to see a tear in their Harbinger's eye, which she quickly wiped away and cleared her throat, leaning back over the table. She rapped her fingers over the wood and said, "So tell me, any luck finding it?"

Rona's face fell at this sudden change in subject and her eyes darted away shamefully. She hated thinking about it. Six months gone into hiding trying to find the Elder Scroll and now she was back among people she considered her family, people she'd abandoned to find the damn thing only to return empty-handed. 

"No sign of it, huh?" Aela gathered from her expression.

"We'll find it," Bishop said confidently, "She's got me now. Best tracker on all of Nirn. We _will_ find it."

Rona swallowed hard trying not to think about it. Aela seemed to get the hint and changed the subject again, going back to lighter things, telling her all about the training and progress of the New Bloods. After they finished eating Nelkir insisted on showing Rona his new skills so they returned to the training yard. She watched him display impressive prowess with dual wielding and he even showed great improvement in his marksmanship which he quickly credited Bast for. The girl just shrugged and idly chewed on an apple while the poor boy tried and failed to gain her favor with his sheepish compliments and praise. 

But as the sun slowly started to set for the day Rona excused herself from the group, looking to have her hand healed up at the Temple of Kynareth. She and Bishop gave their goodnights for the evening while Karnwyr stayed behind, too busy playing with the children to notice his companions had left.

"We'll stop by again tomorrow," Bishop called to Nelkir, "So keep an eye on him until then for me, alright?"

"You got it!" Nelkir waved back before they rounded the great Mead Hall and followed the path leading to the Temple.

Rona fell deep into thought as the quiet of night slipped over the city and Bishop nudged her with his hip as they walked, drawing her attention back to him. He smiled and said, "It was good to see them again."

"Yeah, it was," she agreed, although her face seemed to say otherwise as her fears and worries played in her mind. Things had been fairly good thus far, which to her merely meant that it was the calm before the storm.

"What's eating you, Rona? Talk to me."

"Nothing," she said quickly, "My hand's just hurting a little. I hope Danica can heal it."

"She brought you from the brink of death once before, I think she can handle healing a broken hand," he said, choosing not to push her further.

They arrived at the Temple and went in. There were a few sickly and wounded people laying on raised stone slabs around the room. One of the people being attended to at that moment was a Stormcloak soldier who was howling in pain while two male Priests of Kynareth held him down by his chest and arms and Danica worked to set what looked like a twisted and broken ankle. Two other Stormcloak men stood off to the side snickering to themselves as they watched the scene unfold, not helping in the slightest.

Danica grumbled loudly, "Just hold still already and I'll numb you, you numbskull!" She raised a glowing hand, struggling to catch his writhing leg as he stammered and gasped, "No! No! Ooow! It hurts! Ooow!"

She furiously snatched his ankle out of the air, making him yelp and squirm more while she shouted back, "You've got no one but yourself to blame! Getting drunk and tripping over a damned tree root of all things! Idiot!" She cast the spell over his swollen ankle and he stopped suddenly, sighing with relief.

" _Finally_ ," she growled, wiping at the sweat from her brow before directing her Priests to bring her several potions from the Temple apothecary, "He's going to need at least two potions of vigorous healing and a philter of health, and he'll need plenty of rest thereafter," she added looking right at him, "And stay off that foot for at least a month."

"But we're due to leave next week," one of the Stormcloaks protested.

Danica glanced at the soldier and snapped, "If I need to go down and present his formal discharge to Ulfric myself, then I will. He's not to walk on it for a month, you hear me!?"

"Yes ma'am," the Stormcloak replied quickly, not looking to pick a fight with the menacing Priestess. She gave a weary sigh and turned around. The moment she caught sight of Rona standing there her mouth fell open and she breathed, "Oh by Kyne's tears... it cannot be."

Bishop hurried over to Danica and said quickly, "My wife, uh, Jill, she hurt her hand trying to carry some water back from the well earlier. Can you help her Priestess Pure-Spring?"

She looked at him puzzled for a moment and then noticing Rona allowing her hood to fall more over her face as the Stormcloaks looked on curiously at her. It dawned on her, "Yes... uh yes, of course, I can help her, Mister... er-"

"Fire-Striker," he said.

"Right," Danica nodded, "Well then, please follow me Mr. and Mrs. Fire-Striker."

The two of them fell into step behind Danica as she led them to a small side room. Rona glanced over at Bishop who just gave her a charming smirk and a wink before they both descended a short staircase into a small hallway which branched off into three different rooms. Each door was closed but Danica went straight for the middle one and showed them into a small bedroom with a bed centered against the wall, dressers dotting the corners and a small table with three chairs near the door.

"Please sit," Danica said motioning to the chairs. She crossed the room, aiming for a large bookcase and gently pushed it aside. It eased away easily, being mounted on wheels and revealed a hidden alcove full of a wide variety of potions. She took a single tall white one from the shelf and walked back to Rona. But before she handed it over she said, "Rumors say the Dragonborn is dead, yet here she is, alive and breathing right before my very eyes. All this time I'd believed my efforts were wasted and that you'd gone and got yourself killed."

Rona looked up at the woman and said, "I had to go into hiding."

"I can see that," she pressed her lips together, "Still... I'm grateful to see you're well, Lady Rona." She handed her the potion and took a seat in the open chair and said, "Drink that and let me have a look at your hand after."

Rona downed the sour liquid and felt it's magic almost immediately as the bones in her wrist started to mend themselves. After a minute or two, she pulled her hand out of the sling and gently bent it back and forth before presenting her hand to the Priestess.

Danica looked it over, rubbing her fingers into the tender joints and cast some more healing magic on her. As she worked she asked, "How did this happen?"

"It doesn't matter," Rona said.

"Of course it matters and you're still bruised," Danica noted, drawing Rona's sleeve up, revealing the Black Hand of Sithis which had already steadily crept up her forearm in the last few days. Danica gasped and released her hand as though it were on fire. Rona drew the sleeve back up and held it to her chest, looking away shamefully.

"The Black Hand," Danica breathed.

"You can't tell anyone," Bishop said sternly, giving her a look of warning, "If you tell a soul about this I'll gut you myself."

" _Bishop_ ," Rona hissed at him, but he didn't flinch.

Danica scowled at him before looking back at Rona and said, "In all my years I've only met one other with this mark... and he threatened me too," she snarled back at Bishop.

"Who?" Rona asked curiously.

"A former member of the Companions," she said, "A man named Arnbjorn."

Bishop blinked and said, "What?"

"He used to be a Companion. In fact it was the day he left the Companions, well... he was severely injured by a wolf, at least, he'd said it was a wolf, but his wounds," she paused looking disturbed, "I've seen plenty of wounds in my day and I had no doubt his injuries came from a werewolf. He was such a strange man. I can only speculate why a member of the Dark Brotherhood would be working with the Companions," Danica said thoughtfully then she looked hard at Rona and snapped, "Or why the Dragonborn would be with them!"

Rona felt tears welling in her eyes when she choked out, "It wasn't by choice..."

"She doesn't need to explain herself to you," Bishop said standing up, "You have no idea what she's been through until now, so keep your judgments to yourself."

"Just what have you gotten yourself into girl?" Danica asked with worry.

Rona looked at her and said, "Thank you for keeping my secret and for healing me. I have to go now."

She stood leaving the room with Bishop following and Danica called out to her, "May Kynareth watch over you Dragonborn and show you the path to peace."

Rona shook her head and quickly ascended the stairs with Bishop close behind her. The two of them made the trek back to her homestead near the city's entrance. Neither speaking the entire way. It wasn't until she was fumbling through a pouch on her belt, for the key that Bishop grasped her hands into his. She looked up at him and he said, "It'll be fine Rona. Everything is going to be okay."

She knit her brows together and asked, "How do you know? How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I'm here to watch your back again. I know you're worried, I mean really, I've been standing here watching you fumble around for your damn house key for five minutes now," he chuckled, "but you shouldn't worry so much. We'll do what we have to, to find the Scroll and to... to keep that damn mark of yours at bay, maybe even find a way to be rid of it. I bet your father would know. We really should go see him."

She held thinking of it for a moment before reluctantly agreeing, "Fine... okay." While she felt sicker than ever at the thought of seeing her father, of him knowing everything she'd been up to in the last six months, she knew Bishop was right. He reached a hand into her pouch and in a second found the house key she'd been digging for. He held it up smirking and unlocked the door, letting them both inside.

Rona asked with a slight laugh, "Fire-Striker?"

He turned back and grinned at her, "You like it?"

"Why that name?"

He scratched at the back of his head and sighed, "Well... I've been thinking of it for a long time now and Mrs. Rona Thrice-Banished just didn't roll off the tongue too well. So I started thinking of a new name for us," he crossed his arms and said, "At first I was just going to go with Lightfoot, honestly, but I could never keep up with you no matter how hard I tried." Rona laughed and he shrugged, "So you know, I'm a ranger, you're the Dragonborn and... Fire-Striker. It seemed fitting."

"It's definitely Nordic enough," she said, her smile widening, "I love it."

His eyes were full of affection and love for her at her declaration. In an instant he scooped her right off her feet and into his arms, seeking to keep those flickering flames of joy burning in her soul for however long he could. He nuzzled his face into her neck, nipping and biting at her teasingly, making her giggle and laugh as he kicked the door closed behind them.

But off in the shadows, a tall figure stood, staring at the closed door. He pulled his hood down, revealing his pointed ears and rubbed languidly at the Black Hand gripping his shoulder. He was feeling beyond lucky that night for three of his marks had all ventured across his path in one day.

The first he discovered was going to be a truly difficult contract to fulfill since he was a man with high standing in the community and the specifications for his death were complicated. The second he'd thought he would have to search high and low across Skyrim for, but instead was fortunate enough to find the Alik'r in question, currently imprisoned in the Whiterun jail. His death was swift and necessary and had stopped the mark of Sithis from nearly overtaking him.

Now the ranger, the one who'd he'd been forced to summon the Gravelord over, had crossed his path once more and with him was someone he had not expected in the slightest. He was both stunned and amazed for not only was the Dragonborn alive and well, but the Listener had been found and she was already one of them.

He stared long and hard at that door, wondering idly to himself how this strange young woman, who'd hidden her secret even under the pain of being marked by the Dread Lord, had not only evaded them for so long but was somehow involved with this man. It was no wonder Sanguine himself had stepped in to protect him. It all made so much more sense.

"So your name is Rona," he whispered under his breath. A wry smile curled at his lips and he turned away, putting a hand to the door of the Drunken Huntsman, "May the Listener rise again."


	15. Chapter 15 Madness of a Daughter

**Chapter 15**

 **Madness of a Daughter**

Bishop carried Rona up the stairs, burying his face into an exposed spot under her fur wrap where he playfully kissed and nipped the soft skin along her neck. The tickling sensation from his facial stubble left her giggling and covered in goosebumps.

He chuckled against her skin as he tugged gently with his teeth and continued to pepper her with kisses. He stepped into the master bedroom, which had all new furniture and bedding after the awful fire it sustained many months before. She hooked her arms around his neck, not wanting to let go of him for anything, so he plopped down onto the side of the bed still carrying her bridal style.

"I think you've lost weight Ladyship, you're even lighter than I remember."

"Maybe," she said shrugging and smiling up at him, "I don't eat as well as I used to."

"Well, we will definitely have to change that," he replied with a grin, "I'll cook all your favorites, maybe even learn how to make some of that slimy Aldmeri gook you like so much."

"How thoughtful," she laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

When she pulled away she noticed a tinge of blush to his otherwise tan face and gave him a questioning look.

"It's gonna be great," he said, "when your journey is finally over and we can just... we'll settle down somewhere," she raised a brow and threw him a skeptical look. He chuckled and added, "Just a place to call home. But after that, we'll go wherever you want, _do_ whatever you want. I doubt you could sit still for long even if you tried."

She smiled at him, "True enough."

He paused for a moment, just taking in her beautiful smile and the contentment on her face before leaning forward and stealing a kiss from her soft lips. With his hand pressed to her back, he pulled her in more, deepening their lip-lock. Her reaction was so needy and wanting as she gripped his shoulders that he decided to give her what she wanted and thrust his tongue into her mouth, taking a taste of her. He couldn't seem to get himself deep enough to satisfy his cravings though and immediately started to touch her, running his thick fingers across the fabric on her chest, cupping and touching her breasts.

She undid the laces herself, drawing the string and allowing his hand underneath the tight leathers. He felt her shudder with pleasure in his arms the moment he ran his fingers across her supple breast. He wanted more reactions from her and so he took hold of her tongue with his lips, sucking hard while at the same time he pinched and pulled her budding nipple making her moan under his mouth. He released her from the kiss, allowing her to fall back breathlessly against the bed, giving him a chance to look over her flushed, red face.

She was so beautiful in her arousal and it made him harder than ever. His eyes scanned over her body and he noticed her blush reaching even at her partially exposed chest. He started to peel away the fabric of her clothing, wanting to see more and as he got her top off his gaze traveled once more down her nakedness, pausing for a moment over her perfectly toned, flat tummy. An image flashed in his mind's eye, one of her being round in the belly, swollen with his child.

They'd already made that mistake again and again in the last two days. He'd spilled inside her what seemed like countless times... but was it really a mistake? He found himself desiring her even more just at the idea that he may have already impregnated her and if he didn't he wanted to. He had to. A deep primal instinct overwhelmed his senses as he felt his cock swelling harder at these thoughts.

For the entirety of his sex life, since the first time he ever laid with a woman, he'd always been careful. He never wanted to do to a woman what his father had done to his mother and too many others. But now things were so different. For the first time in his life he yearned for a child and for a family to call his own and he wanted it with her. She'd been so willing the last two days, literally opening her body and submitting to him... but did she still feel that way? Now that they weren't drunk or high on simply seeing one another after so long... he wanted to know if she still wanted this with him.

He started to undress, pulling his jacket off and undoing his trousers. She smiled at him and started to do the same and they both stripped down naked, before he tackled her again, kissing and biting at her soft skin all along her neck and down her chest. She gasped and moaned at his touch and ran her fingers through his hair, before tracing them down his jaw to cup his face in her hands.

She tilted his head up to look at her and said, "Let me pleasure you for once."

He raised his brows and smiled widely at that notion, "You know I'll never say no when you offer." He sat back on the bed then and she moved up and over him, running her hands over his chest and curling her fingers through his thick hair.

"You can always ask too," she said as a bright blush washed over her face, "I like making you feel good."

He leaned back on his elbows and chuckled, "I'll definitely be asking for more of that then, Sweetness, because you do _amazing_ things with your mouth."

Her ears peaked bright red and he laughed some more, loving every second she showed her shyness, it was one of the most charming things about her. She trailed her fingers down his abdomen, following the natural curve of his muscles before reaching his very erect manhood. She wrapped her small hand around his dripping cock, eliciting a moan from him. She just stared at it for a moment, marveling at his size and he grinned. "Getting a good look to put it to memory, Ladyship?"

"It's amazing, Bishop," she breathed, giving him a light stroke, " _You're_ amazing."

He grinned and said, "I'd say keep the compliments coming but, ah, there's something else I'd like you to do with your mouth instead."

She gave him a coy smirk and pressed her finger to her lips, whispering something in Aldmeris to make it light up. He felt his cock throb when she touched that finger to her tongue. He knew exactly what that meant and his anticipation grew along with his erection.

She leaned over him then, brushing her hair behind her ear and poised her lips at his tip. Their eyes met for just a moment before she smirked and immediately took all of him whole, dropping her head down swiftly over his rigid manhood. He threw his head back, groaning with the waves of pleasure she provided as she licked all up and down his shaft and started with a strong sucking and swallowing motion.

He put a hand to the back of her head, coiling his fingers through her hair as she started to steadily bob up and down on him. He gasped out needfully when she sucked hard and pulled off of him with a pop. Then she gripped the base in hand and started to lick all up and down his shaft before swirling her tongue at the tip. He shuddered with each stroke over the head and fisted her hair, gripping it tighter, but didn't move her. She knew exactly what she was doing and needed no guidance from him.

She seemed to be enjoying teasing him, as she continued to glance up at his heavily panting face and smiled with each lick that made him shiver with pleasure. And then she took him whole again, without warning and he felt himself hit the back of her throat. The wetness and tightness of her throat was indescribable and he was sure he was about to lose it right then and there.

She pulled up, dragging her teeth gently against his skin, stopping with just his dripping head in her mouth and then came crashing back down. He let out a gasping groan and that's when he pulled her hair a bit, tugging her off of him. She let him slip out of her mouth and gave him a worried look before asking, "No good?"

"No, no," he breathed a laugh, "Too good, as always, Sweetness."

He let go of her hair and ran his thumb across her mouth, wiping the saliva from her bottom lip before gripping her arm and pulling her over to him and said, "Lay next to me."

She crawled up the bed and laid down next to him on her side allowing him to cradle her in his arms. He could feel the heat of her breath against his neck and he turned to look into her eyes as he lovingly stroked her hair.

"Rona," he started, his heart beating a little faster now, "do you want me?"

She seemed confused by his question and laughed a little, "Of course I want you."

"No, I don't mean," he chewed on his lip trying to formulate the words, "not like right now. Not for sex... I mean. Do you want to be with me?"

She blinked, just staring at him for a minute and then she touched his cheek, tracing the pad of her thumb along his scar, "Yes, Bishop. I want to be with you. It's all I've ever wanted."

He pressed his hand to hers and leaned into her touch, "Do you want this? To have a family with me?"

She nodded more fervently, her brows knit together.

"Marry me," he said, "Don't make me wait anymore."

She looked at him stunned and faltered, " _N-Now?_ "

He chuckled, "Not _right_ now. But soon."

"I... but Ata and...my friends... and," she looked away nervously, pulling her hand from his grasp. She started to get fidgety.

He pushed himself up and leaned over her, gently caressing her arm, trying to reassure her, "They can all be there, Rona. We can send word to them tomorrow and everyone can be here in Whiterun in a few weeks. We can have the ceremony right here in Jorrvaskr."

"Bishop... I-" she started rubbing at the mark on her arm. He glanced at the Black Hand on her wrist which had snaked it's way a little further up since he last saw it.

"We can take care of that too... do whatever you have to do to stop it for now," he shook his head, "but we really need to see your father soon. Maybe he knows a way to get rid of it."

She nodded slowly, but she wouldn't look at him. He couldn't understand what she was so afraid of. Not only was she reluctant to see her father but she was so hesitant to tie the knot.

"It's kind of funny," he said sadly, "I always thought I'd be the one to get cold feet."

She snapped her gaze to his and protested, "No... it's not that, it's just..."

He raised a brow at her, "You're ready to make a baby, but can't marry me?"

She blinked, getting teary-eyed and stammered, rambling, "I-I don't know what I'm doing anymore Bishop. I want to marry you, I do! But I'd always imagined it so differently. For my wedding... for _our_ wedding - I want to be happy on that day, surrounded by all my loved ones. And... having a child. I don't even know. We already made that mistake the last two days, I-I did... It's my own fault, I let you do it and it's all so confusing and-and-"

"Overwhelming," he finished for her. She went silent and sniffled and nodded. He ran his hand up and down her side, caressing her body without taking his eyes from hers as he said, "It's not a mistake. At least, I don't think it is," she knit her brows together at his admission, "I've never wanted this more than I do with you, Rona. I love you, you're the only woman for me."

(Background Music _Pillowtalk_ by Zayn)

He watched as a tear traced down her cheek and he knew it was too much for her. With everything happening, her getting mixed up with the Brotherhood, her Divine destiny and Mehrunes Dagon at her back, and him asking her to marry him on top of it all, it really was too overwhelming.

He kissed her tear away and said, "Let's forget about it for now. Just forget everything else and let's do this. Become one and make love." He moved his hand down her thigh, gripping it for a moment before moving it between her legs. Her breath hitched the moment he touched her dripping folds. He spread her apart and pressed his thick fingers to her aching nub before taking a kiss of her lips. She moaned under his mouth as he climbed between her legs and positioned himself to her.

This was easy. To get lost in the pleasure of each other, to forget about everything awful in their lives and make something new and wonderful together. It started to make sense to him then why she'd allowed it to happen over and over the last two days. He looked over her beautiful face, but eyes that matched his looked back. This wasn't her and he said, "Let me see the real you."

Rona ran a glowing hand through the locks of her white-blonde hair and blinked her eyes several times, restoring the natural colors he knew so well. He stroked her rosy hair and her bright green eyes gazed back into his warm amber ones. He whispered with a smile, "There she is... my beautiful wife-to-be."

Her face immediately burned red and he thrust forward taking her right then and there, making her cry out in ecstasy. They held and kissed and made love for hours. Bishop had her pressed against a wall, with her legs draped up over his arms as he held her up by her rear and pound into her endlessly. His muscles rippled in the low candlelight and their bodies shimmered and dripped with a light sheen of sweat as they panted from their efforts. She had her fingers pressing hard against her clit and her other hand wrapped around his neck as he pushed into her over and over again filling her just right with his throbbing cock.

She wasn't sure how, but he managed to move even closer to her then, sandwiching her between himself and the wall. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, then exhaled saying, "I'm going to come, Rona."

"Yes!" She screamed.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued his steady paced thrusting, pulling back to look into her face when he said more firmly, "I'm going to come inside you."

Her body convulsed around him with pleasure at those words and she wanted him to know it was okay, that it was more than okay. She looked into his face saying, "Yes! I want it! I want all your come, Bishop! Please come inside me!" Then she kissed him, taking his lips into hers and she felt him going even faster and swelling within.

He pulled her away from the wall, her skin dragging from it where it had stuck with her sweat and he carried her to the bed, falling on top of her, not once separating their connected parts. He kept her legs pulled up against his chest and thrust his tongue into her mouth as needfully as he was thrusting his cock into her dripping and tightening womanhood.

She continued to knead her aching nub, coming so close to reaching her climax as he started reaching his. Bishop's hands gripped the bedding tightly on either side of her head and with several more powerful thrusts, he pushed into her hard and buried himself as deep as possible, so that tip of his cock ground against her womb. He felt the pressure build up before it exploded out of him in a furious torrent.

He pulled away from her lips gasping and grunting, "Coming Rona! COMING! UGH!" He moaned heavily and desperately as he was hit with an unstoppable current of pleasure and felt the power of his release, knowing his goal was to impregnate her. The moment she felt the first wave of warmth inside her she lost control, feeling a rush of pure bliss detonate and course through her as her body buckled and contracted tightly around him.

"Come in me, Bishop! Don't stop!" She begged and panted into his ear. 

This only seemed to prolong his orgasm as he gasped and wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her close to him, "Fuck! I love you, Rona! I'm so in love with you! I want you to have my child! Please!" 

His sudden confession filled her with immense joy and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and threw her arms around his neck, cradling his head to her bosom as she cried, "Oh Bishop, I love you so much! I want it, I want a baby with you!"

He looked up into her eyes, still feeling the pulsing pleasure along his length and her entire body wrapped so tightly around him. He kissed her slowly and deeply as they allowed the flurry of satisfaction, gratification, and happiness to consume them both. 

Finally, exhausted, they both came down from the high of their lovemaking. He remained fully on top of her and buried within just holding her tightly against his body. He'd never felt more complete in his life than he did in that moment and couldn't bear the thought of ending their coupling just yet. She seemed equally as content as she lay there under him, her eyes closed with a peaceful smile on her lips.

Her face and ears were still so red which made him chuckle. Her eyes bat open and she mumbled, "Hmm?"

He was curious then and caressed the side of her head, then ran his fingers along the length of one of her ears and she let out a small moan as he rubbed all the way to the pointed tip. He felt her womanhood tighten suddenly around his softening member and he laughed, "Wow, you know I'd heard elf ears were sensitive but I'd never thought to try it til now."

Her eyes widened with embarrassment and he just kissed her on the cheek, "Always so shy, Ladyship. What am I going to do with you?"

She pursed her lips and said sheepishly, "You could do that again."

He grinned at her and rolled off of her finally, "Tomorrow," he said, "I am definitely spent tonight."

She curled up next to him in the crook of his arm and rest her head against his chest. She started lightly dragging her nails across his chest and tracing the curves of his pectorals as she said, "Do you think I'm... that I'll..."

"Get pregnant?"

"Yeeaah..."

"Probably," he laughed, "If I'm anything like my parents."

She gave a content smile and asked, "What do you want to name it?"

He snorted, "We're already picking names are we?"

She snuggled closer to him and said, "Humor me."

"Ugh fine," he scoffed, rolling his eyes, "I dunno. Bishop Junior? The DragUnborn?"

" _Bishooop_ ," she chided with a laugh, then perked up and said, "If it's a girl I like Rielle."

"That's pretty," he agreed, then asked in turn, "And for a boy?"

"I'm not sure..." she paused to think.

They were quiet for a moment before Bishop said, "What about Julian?"

Rona looked over at him and their eyes met for a moment, "Like your brother?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "Jules was... just... _Jules_ ," he sighed and clarified, "My parents named us after gambling pieces."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Wait... you were actually named after-"

"A fucking chess piece, yeah," he smirked incredulously at his own admission, "And Jules was named after, well, _jewels_. Like, shiny gems."

She pushed herself up and looked down at him. " _Seriously?_ " She laughed.

"Seriously," he confirmed and smirked, "He got teased for it all his life. Mostly by me but that's not the point. We'd both laugh our asses off if I named my son Jules. But there was another name our mother considered for him. Julian. My parents thought it was too respectable... which is why it's perfect."

She smiled at him affectionately and said, "I love it."

" _Really?_ " He sounded skeptical.

"Yes really," she assured him and laid against his chest again, closing her eyes she added with a yawn, "I was going to suggest Florence, but Julian is much nicer."

Bishop scoffed and said, "Keep talking, Benanius."

They both broke into a fit of giggles and laughs and he pulled her closer to him, embracing her before they both drifted off into dreamless sleep.

(Background Music Youtube: _Black Hill & heklAa - Rivers & Shores [Full Album]_)

Rona stared up at the ceiling as she listened to Bishop's soft snoring beside her. She'd only slept for a short while when a light clattering on her nightstand had woken her and now she couldn't sleep. She was afraid to sleep.

She kept reliving that day over and over again in her mind's eye. It had been the happiest day of her best friend's life, but the worst day of hers because it was the day Bishop died. Rona couldn't stop seeing his face, staring cold and lifelessly at the night sky. And it had been all her fault.

Now that they were back together it just felt like she was waiting for something awful to happen again. He could never be safe around her, yet they'd both been miserable without the other and now… now they were trying to have a baby. What were they even doing?

She felt overwhelmed in her emotions. She was so happy, yet so sad and confused all at once. She glanced over at the Razor on her nightstand before rolling away from it, turning to Bishop and gently caressed his content, sleeping face. He was so wonderful and she wanted him to be happy. He _deserved_ to be happy. But she knew she couldn't stay.

She moved a soft tuft of his honey-brown hair from over his eye and quietly kissed his forehead and whispered, "I love you, Bishop. I hope you'll understand... I just want you to be safe," before slipping out from under his arm. She quietly dressed herself and collected her things, then stopped and stared down at the dagger hatefully before picking it up and stashing it in the proper holster on her hip. Then she silently padded down the stairs and swept outside.

Rona took a deep breath and looked up at the new moon shining down on her. The night sky was clear save for a few sparse clouds floating above. She turned and walked towards the market square, looking on at all the empty stands and reminiscing about the first time she ever came Whiterun. She'd thought it was a charming little city, but when she'd learned more from Kodlak when he'd told her it was the place of her birth, she started to see it in a new light, as something of a home to her. 

Yet so many terrible things had happened in that little city, it was a wonder why she liked it at all. Rona quickly rounded the central well and walked up the steps leading to the Wind District. She looked up at the dead Gildergreen and scoffed. Even something which was meant to be a symbol of life was old and dead there.

She turned away from it, heading down the path leading to Jorrvaskr and stopped in front of the hidden door leading to the Underforge. The last time she went inside that place she was nearly turned into a werewolf. Even with that terrible memory in mind, she pushed against the wall, forcing it to open. She walked inside and rounded the path leading to the other exit and leapt down the slope where she stepped outside and into the open farmland. It all seemed quiet and empty as she walked around which was good enough for her so she looked to the sky and shouted, "OD AH VIING!" Then she went over and sat down on the edge of a large boulder to wait.

Rona hadn't seen or heard from the red dragon in nearly a week and she was getting worried. It was very unlike him to stay away for too long. They hadn't been apart more than a few days at a time since the day she met with him nearly six months ago. It was shortly after she left Bishop at the Throat of the World. She knew he'd track her down, one way or another and she needed to get around Skyrim quicker than she could on foot or by steed. Then remembering the shout Odahviing had granted her she decided to take a chance and used it to call upon the old red beast. It surprised her when he actually did appear the first time.

She begged him to take her somewhere far away and he flew her to the far reaches of Riften. She spent several days in his company, going about her business, as usual, trying to discern what she could about the Elder Scroll and its whereabouts and they started talking. She got to know him like an old friend and learned he had a taste for sweets. He even helped her find several word walls around Skyrim and protected her from the dragons that roosted there. They'd formed a strong bond, a kinship like none she'd ever had before. He'd trained her in the art of the Thu'um, showing her how dragons shouted to communicate with one another and ways to shout that wouldn't strain her voice so much. He'd taught her more than she ever could have learned from the Greybeards.

What she loved most about him though was when he allowed her to fly with him. Being high in the air so that the wind whipped her face made her feel more in tune with her dragon's soul and despite his occasional grumbling over it, she knew he'd enjoyed carrying her, at the very least he liked her company. 

After ten minutes of waiting she was getting impatient and worried. He'd always been so good about coming when she called. She stood from the rock and shouted again, "OD AH VIING!"

She scanned the skies and knit her brows together. He'd gone to meet with Alduin and the other Elder Dragons. At the time he assured her it would be fine, but now...

"Ah dinnae why ye call such a beast to carry you."

Rona froze in place and her heart started racing. She slowly turned back and stared hard at the woman standing there. Claudia wasn't even looking at her though. Instead, she was staring off at the stars while her long, dark, red hair coiled loosely down her back and the scars on her face were highlighted sharply by the moonlight. She was as old as Rona remembered her with eyes that were lined with crow's feet and her mouth held firm laugh lines. She stood short even shorter than her but had a bulk and strength to her small frame. Her mother turned to her and said, "Thought ye were supposed tae kill them. That's what the Dragonborn does, isn't it?"

Rona curled her fists together and said, "What would you know about being Dragonborn?"

"I know what a hero is and isn't supposed to be," Claudia replied disdainfully, "And you're no hero. Just a scared little girl, running away from her destiny."

"I'm _not_ running away," Rona breathed angrily, "I'm protecting them! Keeping them safe!"

"Bah!" Claudia scoffed and waved a hand at her, "My boy wouldnae run, ah know that. If he'd had your power he'd have honored it. Full blooded Nord he is."

"So I'm not good enough!? Is that it!? Because I'm only half a Nord!?"

"Of course! Y'ere not even from Skyrim. Born here maybe, but what stake does a bloody knife-ear have in saving these lands?"

"How can you say that to me?" Rona cried, tears stinging her eyes, "After all I've ever done for this place! It... it's _my_ _home!_ I could never abandon it!"

"Horse shit," Claudia spat, "You've wanted to leave since the day you discovered your destiny," she started walking, moving closer to Rona as she spoke, "You we're always running about, pretending to be some great hero in your Fighter's Guild, but when it truly came time to stand up for the world and take the mantle as a _true_ hero, when the Divines themselves lay upon ye your power, a power many would die for... you want to cast it aside and let the world burn."

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Rona screamed at her mother, gripping the dagger at her hip.

"Oh isn't it!? Then why not let them join ye, stead o' runnin' like ye are!?" She shouted back, motioning a hand towards Jorrvaskr, where they could just barely see it's roofing over the city walls. "You think they don wannae fight? Should let 'em! It's their world too! They deserve a chance to save it!"

"It's _not_ their fight," Rona asserted, "I won't risk their lives."

"More like ye won't risk _his_ life," Claudia cut her eyes at her, "But you'll let him make you weaker, makin' you with child! Auch! The absurdity of it! Dragonborn battling dragons heavy with a babe!"

"You fought bandits and beasts while carrying me, didn't you!? How is that any different!?"

"Because I was mad. Are you mad as well girl?"

Rona stared at her mother, her lower lip quivered and her eyes sparkled with tears made in anger. She grit her teeth and leapt forward, drawing the Razor from its sheath and started swiping at the ghost of her mother, shrieking, "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH YOU BITCH! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! YOU THINK THIS IS SOME GREAT HONOR! IT'S NOT! IT'S A GODSFORSAKEN CURSE!"

She cut uselessly through the translucent woman before falling to her knees where she dropped the dagger in the grass and sobbed into her hands.

Karnwyr gave a low whine at the sight of Rona in the distance, while Bishop and Nelkir stood by, watching as she shrieked at absolutely nothing before swiping the Razor wildly through the air.

"Is... is she okay?" Nelkir asked Bishop tentatively as he slowly approached the place where she'd sank to the ground and started sobbing.

He looked back and said, "You should head back, Nelkir. Thanks for helping me find her."

Karnwyr went right up to her and started licking at the hands she had cupped around her face but she ignored him and continued to sob uncontrollably into her hands.

Bishop stopped beside her and knelt down, putting an arm around her shoulders as he said, "Come on Ladyship. Let's go back, okay?" 

She shook her head and wailed, "Make her go away! Please make her leave!"

Bishop looked around at the empty expanse of farmland and said calmly, "Rona, there's no one else here..."

She pulled her hands from her face and just gave him a stunned look. He snaked his arm under hers and lifted her to her feet. She took a deep breath and stared vacantly at the air in front of her so Bishop stood in front of her, gripping her shoulders and said, "Please come back with me."

"I... okay," she relented and fell into step with him.

He was afraid to ask her what she was seeing but even more afraid to note the fact that she was fully dressed, equipped and had Mehrunes Razor with her again.

They left it there in the grass where it glowed red in the moonlight and they did not hear the low roars of dragons in the distance giving a threatening reply to her earlier call.

" _Kren sosaal!_ "


	16. Chapter 16 Make War Brother

_A/N: For those who don't already have it, this is the Playlist for Book Two._ playlist?list=PL2Pn2Hpk9MfUV2Zaiknj_0mxItO-cRBom

 **Chapter 16**

 **Make War Brother**

Bishop led her back to their shared home and he couldn't seem to stop himself the moment the door closed behind them. He rounded on her, backing her into a corner and slammed a hand against the wall snarling at her, "You were going to leave weren't you!?"

She turned her head away from him shamefully.

He grit his teeth and gripped his fists together, getting angrier by the second at her non-reply then stepped away and threw his hands out, "I _knew_ it! I _fucking_ knew it!" He spun back and spat, "After everything tonight!? After what we did these last three days, you're just going to pack up and leave again!? I swore I would help you! _Why won't you let me help you!?_ "

"Because it found me again, Bishop!" She snapped back at him, her own anger boiling over after her mad talk with her dead mother. "I can't escape it and I won't risk your life for any of it!"

He glared at her and growled, "So _what?_ Get pregnant and run off again? Was that the plan all along!? What's the fucking point of that!? How – argh!" He slammed his fist on the small dining table cracking it, "HOW STUPID CAN YOU FUCKING BE!?"

"I didn't plan any of this!" She threw her hand to her chest, "I was trying to protect you by staying _away_ from you! But you-you caught me and- "

"That's _it_ ," he started pacing back and forth furiously, "I don't care what some godsdamned prophecy or what the Greybeards or any of them say. _Fuck this shit!_ We're leaving Skyrim, I'm getting you out of here and as far from this place as possible!"

"You can't make me leave, Bishop," she objected firmly.

He stopped and looked hard at her, pressing his fingers to his forehead and scoffed, "Do you even see yourself right now?" He threw a hand out gesturing wildly, "You were talking to _no one_ , Rona. Just losing it out there and babbling nonsense to _nobody_. All these things that have been happening, they're making you crazy and I can't just stand here and watch it happen!"

"I can't leave!" She screamed.

"WHY NOT!?" He roared back, "Because from what I've seen so far, dragons have returned to Skyrim, Alduin has returned to Skyrim and not a DAMN thing has changed! The world isn't ending and it's not going to end! With or without you it'll just keep going on like it always has! Can't you see that it's all a bunch of bullshit!? None of its real! And you're just going to get yourself killed chasing down this fucking Elder Scroll which, for all we know, might not even exist!"

She faltered then, taking in everything he'd just said. What if he was right? What if it was all a lie? And she'd just been running herself ragged for nothing? Then she felt a tightening grip on her wrist and rubbed at her arm where the Black Hand was steadily making its way upward, ever reaching for her heart and soul.

Bishop noticed it too and said, "We _have_ to go see Serlas about that. I _know_ he can fix it."

She knit her brows together and stared down at the floor.

Bishop took a deep breath and approached her, trying to keep his voice calm when he asked, "Why don't you want to see him?"

"Because," she choked on her words, "he's going to hate me..."

"He's not gonna hate you."

She looked up at him and scoffed, "Don't you get it? Ata spent years fighting off Dremora and Daedra during the Oblivion Crisis! He vehemently opposed Mehrunes Dagon and did everything he could to try and stop him from taking over the world and then I... I went up to a place of _worship_ for _that_ Daedric Prince and I _murdered_ a man for him - for - _for the Razor!_ "

"And that's _exactly_ why we need to see him," Bishop argued, "Because he'll know how to destroy the Razor too!"

"I CAN'T!" She screamed, " _I WON'T!_ " She stormed past him, hurrying up the stairs and turned to her left into the smaller spare room, slamming the door shut and locking it. She pushed her back to it and heard Bishop come up the stairs.

He stopped outside, his voice was low and his tone was final, "We're leaving for Winterhold _tomorrow_ and don't even think about sneaking out again."

She said nothing and waited, listening for his footsteps. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she heard him go back down the stairs. Of course, he would sleep down there, where it'd be easier to catch her leaving.

Rona slowly sank to the floor and put her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest. It wouldn't be hard to escape with all her magic and shouts at her command, but she was exhausted too. She took a deep breath and crawled into the small single bed, laying on top of the blankets with her clothes and boots still on. As much as she wanted to make up with him she couldn't trust herself to fall asleep beside him, not with the Razor so close by. So she slept alone and miserable once again, all her fears and worries mounting and pressing on her, with Bishop so close yet so far out of her reach.

The next morning Rona rolled out of the tiny bed feeling worse for wear. She pulled the sleeve of her leathers up and took a look at the Black Hand. It was gripping her forearm now which was very alarming. She needed to fulfill her second contract out in Ivarstead soon.

She got up and unlocked her door, then peered out into the hall. There was no sign of Bishop upstairs so she quietly padded downstairs and found him curled up on a bedroll by the foot of the front door with Karnwyr sprawled out right next to him. It looked like he'd planned to keep her from leaving simply by blocking the front door, even though there were plenty of windows in the small house.

Karnwyr looked up at her and gave a low whine, his tongue lolling happily from his mouth as always. The wolf got up, stretched and wandered over to her. Rona sank into one of the chairs by the hearth and greeted him by scratching him thoroughly behind the ears and along his neck.

Bishop rolled over, groaning a little and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He glanced up at her from his spot on the floor and she anxiously chewed on her lip while still petting the happy wolf.

Both exchanged an apologetic look before Rona finally said, "I'm sorry."

Bishop pushed himself up and sat cross-legged while scratching at his wiry mess of bedhead and said, "I'm sorry too... I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"I understand why you did," she said.

He crossed his arms over, "Been trying to break those old habits… trying not to be so pissed off all the time," he looked at her and sighed, "It's just, you do so many things that… you really know how to get under my skin sometimes."

She stopped patting Karnwyr, stood up and went over to him before sinking down and curling up in his lap on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him and whispered, "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Bishop. I love you so much and I'm so afraid I'll do something terrible to you or that something awful will happen like when-," she faltered, her words catching in her throat.

"Like when I died in Cyrodiil?" He gave her a pointed look and she nodded slowly. Then he hugged her tightly and assured her, "I'm not going to get hurt like that again and definitely not because of you. So stop worrying about it."

He was lying. She _knew_ he was lying. They both knew what could happen if she stayed and yet he continued to lie, whether it was for her benefit or to convince himself, however, she wasn't sure.

"Promise me you won't leave me again, Rona. If you do… I…" he looked her right in the eyes, "I can't live without you in my life. You're everything to me, you know that right?"

She met his gaze and pressed a hand to his cheek. She traced his scar with the pad of her thumb and said without wavering, "I'll never leave you again, Bishop. I promise."

He studied her face for a moment, searching for any tell, any sign that she was lying, but she just leaned in and kissed him. He returned her affection, relishing in it for a moment as her soft lips brushed against his and when they pulled apart he said, "I trust you, Rona. I know you would _never_ lie to me."

"Never," she whispered back and her face was full of sincerity, but his gut kept telling him otherwise. What could he do but take her at her word though?

He sighed and said, "We should probably get moving. I want to get to Winterhold sooner than later. Bet you've been missing your father too, huh?"

"Yeah," she sounded wistful but quickly added, "I was hoping we could visit with Nelkir and the others for a little while. Just a few more hours maybe? I feel like I didn't get to see them for very long yesterday."

Bishop knit his brows together and asked, "What about your mark?"

Rona clutched at her wrist and said, "It's fine. It hasn't grown very much."

"Alright," he nodded and looked her over skeptically, "let's not stay too long. Maybe a few hours at best."

"That's perfect, that's all I need."

(Background Music _Wildkin Glade_ by Vindsvept)

They got up and got their things together, with plans to leave right after their visit with the Companions.

They arrived at Jorrvaskr while the sun was still low in the sky and found Nelkir up bright and early with his friend Blaise and Vilkas out training in the yard while Aela, Farkas and all the girls sat at the tables having breakfast and chatted amongst themselves. Rona made a quick visit with Eorlund Gray-Mane, asking if he'd be willing to forge her a new dagger, one made from dragonbone. He was more than happy to oblige, saying it would be ready in a week's time since he'd gotten much better at forging bone, considering all of the Companions new weapons were made from the durable material and there seemed to be an endless supply of it coming from the dragons they'd killed in the area.

"What about that bow of yours?" He asked her, nodding to it as he dipped a white-hot slab of steel into a basin of water, making it hiss and steam, "Could make you something new and sturdier."

Rona pulled her bow from her back and looked it over. It was old and worn, made from a mixture of hard steel and moonstone. But it was hers and she'd made it herself. She smiled, "I'm pretty attached to this old thing, but if you have any dragonbone arrows I wouldn't say no to that."

Eorlund smirked at her and stepped to his side table where ten bundles or more of the arrows in question lay and said, "Fifty in a bundle, been selling them at a sixty percent price hike to the Stormcloaks," he chuckled taking a bunch of them, "But for you, Lady Rona, they're free."

He passed her the bundle of arrows and she took them, knitting her brows together, "Eorlund… I can pay you back, really."

He waved a hand at her and said, "I won't be hearing any of that now. You overpaid for those swords of yours and _his_ dagger," he motioned down at Bishop who was busy playing a game of tag with the two little girls while Karnwyr nipped at their heels chasing them around.

She smiled as she watched him. He was grinning broadly and shouting, "I'm gonna catcha! C'mere!" He swiped at one of the girls, Lucia, who ran by him giggling up a storm, but missed her entirely as the other girl, Sofie, whisked behind him, nearly throwing him off balance, "Whoa!" He caught himself and laughed, continuing to chase them around the yard before he finally stopped, throwing his hands to his knees as he bent over and wheezed, "Okay, so maybe I won't catch yah. _Whoo!_ You'd think slaying dragons woulda kept me in better shape…"

" _Aaaww_ ," Sofie whined from ten paces away from him.

"You can do it, Bishie!" Lucia cried from the safety of the patio as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

" _Yeah Bishie_ ," Nelkir taunted as he and Blaise walked by, "Getting too old to keep up with a bunch of little girls?"

Bishop smirked at Nelkir and swung his arm out, catching the boy around the neck, dragging him into a fierce headlock before he proceeded to playfully mash the top of his head messing up his short red hair. Nelkir yelped, struggled and failed to pull himself free, "OW! HEY! QUIT IT BISH! LEMME GO!"

"What was that, _Nelkie?"_ Bishop snickered as he tousled his hair a little rougher, "Can't understand a word with that high pitched squeak in your voice!"

"SHUT UP!" Nelkir warbled out, his pitch rising and falling dramatically so, "I do not have a squeak!"

Everyone in the yard burst into laughter andVilkas called out, "Best not break the young bloods too much ranger. We need them to keep the place up and running you know."

"Oh, that's so _mean_ , Bishop!" Freya scowled at him from her seat under the patio. Farkas, however, was practically guffawing along with everyone else, until his pregnant wife glared furiously at him.

He cleared his throat and went straight-faced, agreeing, "Right. You're absolutely right dear. That's really not a nice thing to do to the pups, Bish."

"Pft, yeah, yeah," Bishop rolled his eyes, scoffing, "Don't get your panties in a twist." He loosened his grip on Nelkir, who was still writhing around, trying to get free.

The moment Bishop let him go he flung backward and landed hard on his ass with a loud, " _Oof!_ "

Eorlund was chuckling quietly beside Rona and Bishop glanced up at her and flashed her a smarmy grin. She smiled back at him and said to the old blacksmith, "Thanks again, Eorlund. I'll try to come back as soon as I can for that dagger, but it might be a while."

"Fine by me, gives me more time to perfect it and I'm sure Fraliawill want to make you a beautiful scabbard for it," he put a hand to her shoulder and said, "Take care of yourself, Rona. I know things have been hard for you but never forget we're here for you. This is your home and we _are_ your family."

She looked up at the old man, touched by his kindness and gave him a big hug. He hugged her back like a father would and she felt herself missing her own father very much. She thanked him again and hurried down the stairs into the training yard whereNelkir was standing by, rubbing the seat of his ass and looking sour while Blaise pointed and laughed at him.

Rona immediately pulled her little brother into a tight hug all of a sudden, taking him by surprise and making him blush. "Ah! Wha – Rona!"

"Mmm! I love you lil' brother!" She gushed, squeezing him tighter.

"Augh!" His face was nearly as red as his hair and he stammered, "I get it now! You're both trying to make me die of embarrassment!"

Bishop snorted a laugh from his seat at the table under the porch, "Aw damn, you figured it out!"

Ronakept cuddling and fawning over her brother until the other children went up to them, looking to play another game of tag. This time the boys joined in and started to chase the girls around including Rona.

Bishop watched in amusement with his heart warming to see her happy and laughing again. He was getting familiar old feelings in his chest, feelings he'd tried to push away for a long time. Thoughts of marriage and family started to bubble in his mind's eye as he watched her playfully chasing the kids around. But another thought had been pressing on his mind since the day before as he thought of the mark on her arm.

Aela was tipping back a tankard of water when Bishop spoke up suddenly, "Harbinger, I was wondering if I could have a word with you."

She raised a brow curiously and said, "Sure, what is it?"

Bishop stood up and motioned to the doors leading into Jorrvaskr, "In private?"

"Alright," Aela said putting her drink aside and made to stand when their attention was drawn to the sudden commotion in the yard.

Nelkir was running from Rona when he stopped abruptly, shouted, "WHOA!" and fell backward, right into her. She caught him under the arms and held him up as they both stared hard at the strange thing in front of them.

(The song is _Out of Time_ by Iconic Audio)

Bishop and Aela stepped forward, staring at it too, utterly dumbfounded by what it was they were seeing. It could only be described as a rip in the air. Bishop had a feeling he'd seen something like it before, up on the Throat of the World. A place where the fabric of space and time had been torn apart, revealing a strange world within.

Nelkir finally righted himself on his feet and leaned forward, looking closely at it and mumbling, "What is it?"

Then the tremble in Rona's voice caught Bishop's attention as she said, "Nelkir, get away from it, _right now._ "

But Nelkir didn't move away from it, in fact, he seemed to be leaning closer, trying to see inside the tear. Rona reached for him, attempting to pull him back with her and in that moment something moved within it. Everyone froze. The tension was so thick Bishop swore he could cut it right out of the air.

Then the tear shuddered and Rona snatched Nelkir by the collar of his tunic, yanking him down to the ground with her as it tore open even further. Bishop felt the color draining from his face when he saw it. The beady eye of a dragon whisked about, peering around through the tear and then it pushed against the strange fabric of time and space, clawing at it and stretching it in a way that made the world around it look distorted, like a reflection in a spoon.

The space ripped and tore open then, allowing the orange beast free. It burst out of the seam in the air and flew up high and around before landing on the wall next to the training yard where it slowly peered around, taking in its surroundings for a moment.

Bishop just gaped at it. It'd been a while since he'd seen one of the smaller ones, but he'd been noticing them more and more lately. These tiny dragons which were significantly smaller than the ones they normally saw which were about the size of a horse. This was the first time he'd seen one up close before. It was so different from the others, with a head that looked flat with the way its spines fanned out all along its body. It was bright orange with a dark blue stripe along its back, making it stand out greatly from its larger counterparts.

Rona was sitting on her knees and clutching Nelkir around the chest, just holding him and shaking and she said to him, "Get the kids into the Underforge. Do not engage it, do you understand?"

Nelkir slowly nodded his head and she released her grip on him. The moment he moved, however, the dragon started to eye him and Rona quickly stood up, letting her brother go. The dragon locked onto her as she strode across the training yard, away from the others. "That's right, just follow me. It's me you want right?"

Rona put her hand to one of her swords and the dragon thrust its head out at her and released a hissing screech in protest. Bishop stepped forward then with his own hand on the hilt of his blade and the dragon looked at him and rumbled another threatening growl.

Rona quickly started speaking in dragon tongue which really drew its attention then, " _Krif zu'u hi sunvaar."_ She was doing whatever she could to keep the focus on her.

The dragon shifted its shoulders and stepped back and forth up on the wall as it cocked its head at her and hissed menacingly, " _Dovahkiin_ …"

She took a deep breath and there was a heavy pause before she attacked, "IIZ SLEN!" Shouting a flurry of ice at the beast and covering half its body in a powerful, freezing ice form. The beast screeched and flapped the only wing not frozen solid and fell off the wall down into the training yard with a clunk. Rona moved so fast Bishop barely saw her as she shouted, "SU GRAH DUN!" and leapt off the ground, aiming for a nearby wall. She kicked hard off of it and somersaulted through the air, holding her blade in both hands as she came down and slammed it straight into the dragon's skull.

It had no chance and slumped over dead as she stood back from it and tried to calm down. They watched as its body burned up and its soul whirled through the air in bright incandescent ribbons. They swept straight through Rona and into her body as always, but one would have thought she'd been pierced by arrows with the way she screamed in pain.

Bishop didn't waste another moment and ran to her just as she dropped her sword, slumped to the ground and clutched her shoulders while she writhed around on the ground in sheer agony. He skidded to a stop by her and shouted fearfully, "Ladyship! What is it!? I – _what -what's wrong!?_ "

" _It burns!_ " She gasped, looking white as a sheet, " _Oh gods why does it burn!?_ "

In a second Qetesh was at their side with one of her famous potions in hand and she uncorked it, then grasped Rona's shoulder tightly, holding her still and forced the bottle into her mouth. "Drink," she ordered.

Rona swallowed the liquid and her convulsing slowed. She caught her breath and pushed herself off the ground while Bishop held a hand to her back, looking her over, bewildered. There wasn't a mark on her so it made absolutely no sense why she would have reacted the way she did. "Ladyship… what happened?"

Her skin was still pale and she was very clammy. She wiped at the sweat on her brow and rasped, "Its soul… it didn't feel right. It felt… so… horribly… _wrong_."

He didn't get a chance to question her further when Eorlund gasped loudly and uttered, "Ysgramor's ghost…"

Everyone looked up at the landing by the forge where Eorlund was standing and staring out at the fields over the wall. Beyond there were hundreds of Stormcloaks that had made their camps on the surrounding farmland as they prepared to march on Markarth in the coming weeks.

"What is it?" Aela called up to him from down below. But he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the scene let alone speak. Then the low rumbles and roars of dragons met their ears and the angry cries and shouting of what sounded like all-out war thundered in from beyond the wall.

Eorlund was shaking as he muttered, " _By the gods.._."

Aela shot an apprehensive look back at the others before turning and running up to join him. Everyone quickly followed behind her, heading up to the forge. Bishop helped Rona to her feet, passing her sword back to her and they joined the group chasing after them. The moment they reached the top of the landing, though, they stopped dead in their tracks, staggered.

(Playlist: _All Hell Breaks Loose_ – Immediate Music followed by YouTube: _DRAGON'S WRATH | Intense Dark Apocalyptic Battle Mix | 1 Hour Epic Music_ )

There were Stormcloaks everywhere, as was expected, but there were also dragons. _Thousands_ of small, orange winged furies clustering like locusts all over the farmlands. They were bursting from twenty or more enormous seams floating in the air, just like the one still shimmering in the training yard.

The dragons circled above the soldiers and shouted at all of them crying out the same things over and over again, "DRUN KEIN ZEYMAH!" before swooping down and grasping the soldiers in their clutches only to fly off with them and rip them apart in the skies above.

But what was even more astonishing was that instead of fighting back or fleeing, the Stormcloaks were attacking _each other_. It was like the world had gone completely mad.

Rona shuddered as a wave of fear washed over her. She still felt sick from the pain of taking just one of those small dragon's souls. She couldn't fathom trying to absorb the souls of thousands of them let alone think of how to stop it.

Aela looked back at the four terrified children in her charge and immediately started barking out orders, "Nelkir, take all of the kids down into the Underforge NOW! Fortify the exits with whatever you can." Nelkir nodded and he and Blaise quickly escorted the two young girls along with them. Then Aela looked to the others, "Vilkas, Farkas and Qetesh, you three head out into the city. Evacuate as many civilians as you can. Bast, I need you to go wake up Athis and get into the Underforge with him. Eorlund, get up to the palace and warn Vignar. Get as many able-bodied men moving as possible."

Eorlund nodded and quickly took off, but not without grabbing a huge dragonbone battleaxe in hand first.

"What about us?" Venus asked apprehensively as she looked to Freya.

"Join the kids in the Underforge," Aela said firmly, "I'm not interested in risking the lives of untrained civilians or pregnant women."

"I can still fight!" Freya argued.

But Farkas put his huge hands to her shoulders turning her towards him and said more seriously than Rona had ever heard him before, "No. We're getting too close to the birth. We can't risk it. The last thing we need is for you to bear our pup in the midst of dragon fire or worse," his face cringed at the thought and he gave her a pleading look, "Look after the other whelps and stay safe - _for me_ \- _please_."

Freya knit her brows together and breathed, "I… alright. Okay."

Farkas buried her in a huge hug and said, "I love you, Freya. Stay strong no matter what happens."

She was getting choked up and gripped him back as best she could, burying her face in his neck as she whispered, "I love you too, Farkas. Don't die out there. You come back to me, damn it."

"Don't I always, love?" He said as he pulled back and smiled down at her.

Their touching moment was quickly extinguished, however, when Bishop roared, "INCOMING!"

To their left, at the edge of the forge, near the wall, another seam ripped open in the air and a dragon started to claw its way free from the transparent, shimmering fabric.

Everyone sprung into action then as Aela shouted, "YOU KNOW YOUR JOBS! MOVE! MOVE!"

The entire group dispersed, leaving Aela standing by Bishop and Rona.

Bishop drew his bow, nocked an arrow and grumbled, "Typical. Just when you think things are going good a bunch of fucking dragons attack."

Aela drew her dagger and tugged her small shield onto her forearm, smirking, "That's just our luck isn't it?"

Rona pulled both her blades from their sheaths and gripped them tightly. She knew they couldn't fend off a swarm of dragons. There was no way. And she knew they were there because of her too. It was her fault. It was _always_ her fault. They might have all been a bunch of bigoted soldiers, but they were still people. People with lives and homes and families and they were being senselessly killed because of her.

The dragon in the seam started to break through, its head burst out and they didn't waste a second. Bishop started firing shock arrows straight into its face, aiming for its eyes and Rona lurched forward shouting with all the power in her voice, "KRII LUN AUS!"

A wave of purplish power burst from her throat and smashed into the face of the beast along with Bishop's arrows just as it broke through the seam. It hissed and writhed, throwing itself backward as the ammunition stuck sharply in its flesh and the leech life started consuming its energy. Rona kicked hard off the ground, "WULD NAH KEST!" and spiraled forward quickly thrusting her blades into the chest of the thing.

It gurgled and growled before slumping to the ground where it died. It started to burn up and she took its soul. Once more the pain was immense. She didn't even hear her own shrieking as horrific visions of a brutal and bloody war violated her mind.

In an instant, she was there again, in that awful place.

Helgen - where the Imperials and the Thalmor stood by watching as twenty Stormcloaks and several unfortunate civilians were hauled to a chopping block in the middle of the small village.

It was there she was dragged forward and thrown down onto the wretched, bloody block. Only this time, as she looked to the side at the others awaiting their imminent demise, she saw herself standing there. Hands bound, dressed in rags, eyes rimmed red and shaking like a leaf. She could see the fear in her own eyes and the internal struggle as she longed to beg, plead and demand her freedom which proved to be all but useless at the time.

Then she turned away from them, looked up at the headsman and spoke words which were not her own, "My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?"

In a second she felt the blade cut through her neck and she screamed.

"Rona! RONA!" Bishop was leaning over her, holding her in his arms and looking fraught with worry.

She felt cold and clammy as though all the blood had drained from her body. She caught her breath and tried to shake off the pain she'd just felt and the memory she'd absorbed.

He pressed a hand to the back of her head and with tears in his eyes leaned down and cradled her to his chest. He was worried for her. It was always like this. She knew what she had to do then… she just wasn't sure how she would do it.

"Bishop," she rasped, "We have to get out of here. We have to lead them away from the city."

He pulled back and looked down at her and shook his head, "No… We need to _leave_. Take Nelkir and the others and get the hell out of here. _Fuck everyone else!_ You can't save them! Stop trying to save them, Rona!" His face cringed as two tears caressed his cheeks, " _Please, Ladyship_. I'm begging you… for once, let's just run."

She smiled up at him and gave a bitter laugh, "Oh Bishop… You know I can't do that."

There was no time to argue as they heard Aela shouting down in the training yard, "COME GET ME YAH BASTARDS!"

Rona forced herself up, sick as it made her, and looked over to see Aela fending off two small dragons with Bast and Athis right behind her. She didn't hesitate then as she grabbed her swords from the ground and pulled away from Bishop's grasp.

"GODSDAMNIT WOMAN!" He roared furiously at her back.

She ignored him and shouted down at the creatures, "ZUL MEY GUT!" Her dragonish insult bounced off of them and they looked up, both cocking their heads in unison. She scowled derisively at the creatures and roared, "HERE I AM! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?"

Aela took the opportunity to run in and bury her dagger into the throat of one of them while Bast launched a flurry of arrows into its face. The other, seeing its comrade be killed right there, decided to thrust itself off the ground and take flight. It circled above several times, eyeing Rona before turning its head to the fields where thousands of dragons were still killing and feasting on the Stormcloaks.

It shouted out to them, "[The Dragonborn is here! Kill her! Kill the Maiden of Dragon Flame! Lord Alduin commands it!]"

She and Bishop both watched as thousands of dragons turned their heads to the one calling to them. It was startling to see them all move so uniformly but even more alarming when they all took to the skies, leaving the soldiers to fight amongst themselves and aimed straight for her.

She buckled then as the soul of the one Aela and Bast had killed entered her body. Once more visions of battle and death surrounded her and she felt the pain of another soldier's untimely demise as though it were her own. She couldn't understand it. Why was she having these visions every time she took a dragon soul?

When she came to Aela, Bishop, Bast and even Athis were all around her, firing arrows into the sky. She was on the ground, looking up and saw them swarming; hundreds upon hundreds of orange furies clustering like a fiery hoard, ready to kill them all.

 _Help,_ she pleaded inside, _we need help!_ She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of all the Dragonborn. Every single one she'd ever met or seen or heard of, men and women alike. Any whisper of their name, she thought it and in that moment she felt the ground shudder and the four Companions gasped, startled. When she opened her eyes again she saw them; fifty or more Dragonborn, as real and alive as she could make them circling her and staring up at the skies with their weapons drawn and magic at the ready.

The hoard of tiny dragons looked downward as they circled, then hissing and growling together they shouted in unison, "YOL TOOR SHUL!" A blazing inferno spiraled down - a sure death meant to obliterate them all.

But the Dragonborn stood strong and roared back their own fury in reply, " _ **FUS! RO! DAH!**_ "

The entirety of Whiterun shook from the power of the two shouts smashing into one another. The Unrelenting Force of air blew apart the tornado of fire and Oblivion broke out as the dragons whisked downward and began tearing into the Dragonborn of yore. The ancient warriors all dispersed, leaping into the fray, each taking a fight of their own. Some worked together while others fought two or three beasts alone. Proud and strong, they stood tall and unwavering in the face of so many vicious creatures.

Eira was standing over Rona and she held a hand out and actually spoke to her, "You remembered that you're not alone." Rona took her hand and Eira pulled her up. "We will fight by your side Dragonborn. But you must know, these are no ordinary dragons. They bear the souls of the Nordic dead, warriors of the past and present."

" _How!?_ " Bishop snarled at her as he aimed his bow and got a perfect shot in the face of a dragon that was diving right for them. His arrow plunged into its skull and it veered off getting cut in twain by a very familiar Dunmer Dragonborn man.

Eira looked at Bishop and said, "Alduin, Master of Death, Devourer of Souls… he created them. By taking the life-blood of the undead from Sovngarde he fed their souls into hundreds of stones and cast ancient magic upon them. He has borne an army the likes of which the world has never seen before. The end draws nigh. The prophecy will be realized."

Rona's mind was reeling. Was this really it? Had the world really started to fall apart? All because she'd failed to find the Elder Scroll?

"No…" Bishop shook his head, "No that's… it's a fucking lie. You're lying," he glared at Eira who merely gave him an empty glance. Then he stepped towards Rona, sensing what she was thinking and said, "It's not true. It's _not_ your fault. It's just a stupid fucking, _horrible_ coincidence. This _isn't_ your fault!"

She looked up at him, brows knit tightly together and her lip quivered, "I'm the hero the gods chose, Bishop. I'm the only one that can stop this."

"Rona…" he reached out, gripping her shoulders tightly and pulled her against him. They both knew what was to come and neither were ready for it.

Eira, however, was becoming impatient, "You know what must be done Dragonborn! Will you stand by and let the world end!? Or will you fight!?"

A tall Altmer was looking over a wide selection of poisonous plant life within the local apothecary, Arcadia's Cauldron, and trying to determine which would be best suited for his needs. He had three marked targets, one of which he'd already killed and two that were both still in Whiterun at that moment. The first had been an Alik'r warrior who was locked in prison after breaking into the city to look for a Redguard woman. His death was all too quick and easy. He'd broken into the jail through the sewers and slit the man's throat while he slept. The guards were none the wiser and the death of the prisoner had been of no consequence to them.

The second target was a very prominent noble in Whiterun he'd been tasked with assassinating by the man's wife no less. But he was required to make it look like an accident. After all, how was she to inherit all of her husband's wealth if it was suspected _she'd_ murdered him? They'd already planned it out. That evening between eight and eleven at night he would hide in an alcove above the man's study and wait for him to arrive. Then once the nobleman had gotten settled in his desk chair, which was conveniently placed below a large animal trophy, the head of an ox, he would carefully unscrew the mounting bolts and send it plummeting right on top of the man, easily crushing him.

The third was much more difficult, however, and Niven knew he would need to use a more subtle method to kill him especially after being threatened by Sanguine himself. So he looked over the plants, wondering which would make the best poison to quickly kill the ranger and his wolf. Still… he'd seen _her_ with him. Jillian… no. _Rona_. That's what he'd called her. She'd looked completely different too. _And_ she was the Dragonborn.

He couldn't understand it, but he'd never felt more eager to kill the man than when he'd watched him lift her into his arms and kissed her so tenderly. Old lovers… engaged to be married from the sound of it. It was no wonder Sanguine had demanded he stay his hand. If she was the Dragonborn and her fiancé the ranger were to die then all of mankind might suffer as a result.

As he carefully looked over the plants and Arcadia herself stood there, idly tapping her nails on the wood counter, they suddenly heard a loud sound. Several loud sounds, in fact, that were unmistakably the roars of dragons. Both looked out through the windows which had a perfect view of the market square and saw townsfolk and soldiers staring up at something. Some people had enough to sense to start running from whatever it was they were seeing and of course both Niven and the proprietor, being curious as to what was happening, quickly stepped outside to have a look.

They were greeted with the awful sight of thousands of small, orange dragons flying overhead. Most of them seemed focused on one central point near Jorrvaskr, by the Skyforge.

Arcadia uttered, " _Mara's mercy_ ," before quickly taking her leave with the other people choosing to run. Niven watched as three of Jorrvaskr's Companions came running down the stairs, calling out to those standing in awe of the dragons, forcing them to move and start evacuating.

Then a loud consecutive roaring happened as all of the dragons shouted down at the Skyforge, sending a fiery hellstorm down on it. But something else shot forcefully back, a wave of energy and a sound which broke the air so harshly that the entire city shook from the strength of it.

Niven grasped at one of the pillars holding up the porch of the apothecary, maintaining his footing as the ground beneath his feet shook and shuddered with the magnitude of a small earthquake. Dust was cast off the roof and several clay tiles dropped down, shattering apart.

Whatever happened seemed to only infuriate the dragons as they suddenly dispersed and started swooping all around Whiterun. Niven watched as several civilians and soldiers were snatched right off the ground, screaming as they were viciously ripped apart in the skies. Others met their demise when four or more of the beasts swarmed them like angry bees and shredded them to pieces right there.

Then he noticed someone in particular, running for his life and wailing like a fool as a single dragon bore down on him, breathing fire right on his heels. The Redguard man meant to run right by the little shop when Niven reached a hand out, snatching the man by the ruff of his collar and yanked him back under the cover the roofing just as a wall of fire sprayed by them.

"Oh! Oh, thank the gods!" The man cried, "I – I ran all the way from the Cloud District! You-you _saved my life!_ "

"That was too close," Niven said, aggravated.

"Yes," the man breathed, "Yes that was _much_ too close!" Then he looked Niven up and down, eyes wide like a wild man and he grabbed at the collar of his clothe and stuttered frantically between panicked gasps for air, "Y-you seem quite capable! Y-yes! If you get me out of here I can make you rich! N-No! I _will_ make you rich! Rich beyond your wildest dreams! PLEASE! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Niven looked at him with half-lidded eyes and said, "Unfortunately your wife already promised me a hefty sum, Nazeem." The man looked at him bewildered and then he exhaled sharply and his body shuddered in pain as a Daedric dagger was forced up into his ribs. Niven leaned forward, holding him steady and whispered in his ear while shoving the blade even deeper, "She wanted me to tell you that she knows you've been fucking the maid."

Nazeem gave a gargled gasp and with that Niven shoved him back out from under their cover right into the face of yet another dragon spewing fire. It engulfed the man killing him in an extremely painful fashion.

Niven stepped back and quickly cast an illusion spell over himself, making him near invisible from the onslaught of dragons. He felt the Black Hand receding down his arm and back into a light clutch on his wrist. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't quite the way they'd planned it, but he imagined the wife wouldn't complain considering the circumstances.

He stood by, watching for a moment as the dragons overran the city and then what looked like ten or more mercenaries came rushing through the streets next, along with them was the Dragonborn herself although her appearance had been restored to the white-blonde and the golden eyes from the night before.

She ran alongside two other women. One a fiery red-head, the other with long, waist-length raven hair. Together the three of them stopped in the middle of the market square, suddenly surrounded by a dozen small dragons that were hissing viciously at them. Each of them faced opposing directions and shouted in succession, fire, ice, and air. Then two wild-eyed women, both as small as Rona, but one with billowing white hair tied tightly on her head and the other with short, spiky hair and a slew of scars on her face came rushing along, weapons in hand. They bound off the ground with incredible prowess, somersaulted through the air and landed on tip-toe along the edges of the market stands where they began lashing out against the dragons perched there with absolutely no care for their own safety or well-being.

Niven was surprised, to say the least. He hadn't expected so many capable warriors to be present, let alone most of them be women. The Companions he'd expected, definitely, but this was odd. Something wasn't right about them. His eyes were glued to the white-haired warriors and he noticed the one with the scarred face was getting the worst of it. Dressed only in what looked like Forsworn pelts of all things and armed with a spear, she was caught completely off guard when another dragon swooped in and buried its claws into her belly.

The woman seemed to be howling in pain, but no sound came from her mouth. None of the others seemed to care or notice and then she vanished in a pillar of green flame. Niven rubbed at his eyes, unsure of what he'd just seen. The entire situation was almost unbelievable, but then again, he'd met Sanguine just the other day, so it was almost silly to deny what was happening right in front of him.

"RONA!" The ranger called to her from atop the stairs, narrowly losing his head to a dragon that swooped in on him. He managed to block its searching claws with his shield and stuck it in the belly with his blade before it careened into a wall, hissing, and screeching. His wolf was right behind him and he snarled, "ATTACK!"

The wolf bared its canines and tore into the throat of the dragon, strangling it with his jaws alone. The beast must have died because its body started to burn up and a strange light swirled through the air, aiming straight for the Dragonborn.

The light swept over her and her knees buckled and she dropped to the ground, gasping in pain. "NO!" The ranger cried out, belting down the stairs two steps at a time. He rushed to her side as the others kept a protective circle around them,

The ranger knelt down beside her and quickly passed her a bottle of potion which she drank. Niven couldn't quite hear their conversation, but it seemed nearly as heated as the ensuing battle. Something down the path drew their attention as the ranger shouted, "SHIT! _SHIT!_ "

"FARKAS! NO!" The Dragonborn cried. She forced herself to her feet and they both darted forward aiming for the street beyond the market.

Niven attempted to peer around the buildings from the cover of the porch when suddenly it was hit with a flurry of flames from above. The wood cracked loudly and several soldiers and more mercenary types arrived, firing arrows at the dragons above the building. Niven heard the creatures screeching above and he ran forward just as they fell through the roofing where he was standing.

He looked back and saw the soldiers and mercenaries burying their blades into the beasts, killing them swiftly. Sure enough, their bodies burned up and the light from them rushed past him and off towards, he assumed the Dragonborn.

Niven looked around for more cover, but with no sign of safety in sight he kept himself cloaked and evaded each and every fiery blast and crashing dragon sent his way. He followed the pathway leading to the gates, trying to stay calm and he saw what had startled the Dragonborn and the ranger. A group of them were all stooped around one of the Companions, a bulky man with stringy black hair. His right leg had been torn clean off and he was bleeding out swiftly. The Dragonborn was holding his leg with her glowing hands, doing everything she could to heal him or at the very least stem the bleeding.

She looked worse for wear, pale and sickly. Then another light shot from somewhere in the city straight into her body and it shook her once more. She was weak, but hanging on still and doing everything she could to save them all. He couldn't help but admire that about her and wondered how a woman who'd killed innocents in such cold blood, could suddenly care so much about so many strangers.

He felt a strong desire to help her, but with hundreds of dragons swooping in all around them and hardly enough people to fight back, he was almost sure they wouldn't make it out alive. He was positive that there was nothing that could save them, for what was there that could defend against hundreds of vicious, swarming dragons when not even the Dragonborn herself could stop them?

His answer then seemed to come in the form of several thunderous roars. Seven enormous dragons, significantly larger than the small orange ones, came sailing in over the wall. Their thu'ums so strong they shook the city. They were each different colors, shapes, and sizes. The largest of them came down hard, just in front of the Dragonborn and her comrades. He slammed right into three smaller dragons, burying his claws and jaws into their bodies as he tore them apart like a bear shredding apart three helpless rabbits.

The enormous beast stood tall and proud with fading orange and yellow scales. He had long pointed horns, a thick neck and appeared to be very old, perhaps even as old as time itself. He looked down upon the Dragonborn and her comrades as the other six dragons landed heavily around them, crushing buildings and cracking walls.

The ranger stood up, holding his blade at the ready, literally looking death in the face as it stared back at him and then the beast spoke, his voice low and rumbling.

" _Dovahkiin_ … You must fly with us. Odahviing calls for your aid."


	17. Chapter 17 All In Vain

**Chapter 17**

 **All In Vain**

(Background Music Continued from YouTube: _Dragon's Wrath | Intense Dark Apocalyptic Battle Mix | 1 Hour Epic Music_ )

Nelkir put his shoulder into it, pushing a huge boulder with Aela, Athis, Bast and Blaise to block the rear exit of the Underforge. He and Bast had mustered up the courage to peer out into the fields earlier and found it running rampant with Stormcloaks mindlessly slaughtering one another. There were only a few dragons lurking around the farmland since the rest had gone chasing after Rona and Bishop, but they didn't want to risk escaping through there. Not with Freya in her condition and Sofie and Lucia hardly trained to fight at all.

Finally, with one more hard shove, the boulder lurched forward, completely blocking the path outside. The five of them caught their breath and leaned against the boulder.

"Now what?" Blaise asked, looking to Aela for guidance.

"Now we wait," she replied firmly as she adjusted her shield.

Freya was seated on the ground, cradling both Sofie and Lucia under each arm while Venus paced back and forth anxiously and bit on her nails. The rumble of more roars echoed into the cavern and the ground shook slightly, loosening dust from the ceiling.

"Oooh!" Venus wailed, "This is the _worst!_ I hate just standing around waiting like this!"

"We all have to have patience," Aela said as she pressed her back to a wall, "We'll ride this out and when it calms down Athis and I will check it out and make sure it's safe to leave."

Athis slumped down to the ground and scoffed, "As if. You really expect me to risk my neck to go running around Whiterun and see if there're any more dragons around? You're mad woman…and don't think I haven't forgotten what happened up at Arcwind Point, pft…"Aela gave him a staunch look of warning and he pursed his lips, turning his head away, "All's I'm saying is I never signed up for any of this insanity. I just wanted to fight for my gold, have a drink now and again and a warm bed to pass out on."

Aela crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, "Well surprise, surprise, Athis. I'm going to put you to work."

His lip curled and he ignored her reply and continued his raving, "This is so typical! You know, I've noticed this only ever happens whenever _she's_ around."

"Whenever who's around?" Sofie asked innocently enough.

"The damn Dragonborn! Who else!?" He barked snappishly. Sofie buried her face in Freya's side as Athis started to get more and more heated, "She's a walking magnet for 'em! First Arcwind Point, then Solitude and now _this!_ It's ridiculous! I say we just let the dragons have her already! What goods she done for us anyhow!?"

"SHUT UP!" Nelkir roared. His fists were clenched and his face was slowly turning red in anger, "Don't you _dare_ talk about my sister like that!"

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it kid?" Athis taunted.

Nelkir drew his blade and quickly swung it, stopping right at Athis' neck. His dark red brows furrowed harshly over his green eyes and he seethed, "I'll do it!"

Athis scoffed, "If you were gonna do it you would have already. Might as well get it over with, seeing as we're all going to die down here anyhow."

"Nelkir!" Aela snapped, "Put it down!" Then she turned her glare towards Athis and growled, "Do us all a favor and keep your blabbering yap shut. We're _. To. Die._ "

Nelkir twisted his mouth but pulled his blade away and made to sheath it when they heard a light gasp behind them. Freya, Venus and the two little girls were all staring at a cloaked individual who definitely had not been there before. She was clutching the rim of the font in the center of the room. Her red hood could not seem to contain her long billowing strawberry blonde locks. She wore fitted, dark brown leather armor and had a bow and quiver strapped to her body.

Startled, Athis was the first to ask what was all on their minds, "Who the fuck is that!?"

"A ghost?" Freya speculated quietly.

The figure raised her hands then, holding them up together over the font and started to whisper an incantation that none of them understood. It became readily apparent that there were three strange objects in the room which had not been there before when they all started to glow as red as her palms. On each alter sat a unique object, a thigh bone, an ancient drum, and a carved wolf skull.

Aela seemed to recognize the objects when she whispered, "The Totems of Hircine... but how? They were buried with…"

Her eyes widened in realization then but she held her tongue as the young woman continued to chant. Soon the font was full of what was no doubt blood. She lowered a hand and touched the surface, making it ripple and from the small waves a face appeared. It was a powerful man who had the head of a stag and an enormous spear in hand. His eyes glowed white through the pool of red and when he spoke to the woman his voice seemed to ring throughout the room and reverberate directly into their souls.

" _Ah my most prized Hound… you know what you must do. Fulfill your task but do not forfeit the hunt either, for the prey is plentiful and in need of culling. Take this and bring me their souls…"_

The creature's voice broke into a wicked laughter as a strange talisman that looked oddly like a black soul gem, carved in the shape of a wolf's head rose from the blood in the font. It was dripping thickly, but the woman reached out, taking it regardless and tied it around her neck, wearing it as a necklace. She suddenly turned away from the font, her cloak and hair sweeping along with her as she aimed for the exit.

"Harbinger wait!" Aela cried.

The woman stopped and turned to look at her. Aela stepped forward and spoke hesitantly, "Harbinger Wyllin… it… it's an honor. Tell me… you're going to help her, aren't you?"

Wyllin's bright green eyes met hers and she smiled slowly, almost mischievously before she slipped right through the stone sealed entrance near Jorrvaskr without even opening the door, proving she truly was a ghost.

"Harbinger?" Nelkir questioned. Aela looked at him as though she was being addressed and he clarified, asking again, "She's a Harbinger?"

"She was once a very long time ago," Aela explained,"Wyllin the Beast, they'd called her. Dragonborn and Harbinger of the Companions. She was a Bosmer from Valenwood and a true werewolf, one of Hircine's own, not like us who gained our power from the hagravens. She was deeply devout in her worship of the Daedric Lord of the Hunt even going so far as to find all of his totems. She had no desire for Sovngarde. She only wanted to spend the rest of her eternity in the Hunting Grounds. When she passed on nearly two millennia ago, it was said they buried the totems with her…" Aela trailed off, as her eyes drifted back to the spot where the little Bosmer had vanished through the stone.

Aela continued, "Rona must have summoned her somehow, but… that was Hircine's voice we heard just now. I'm sure of it," then she paused again, deep in thought, while the others fidgeted in their spots anxiously. More loud roaring could be heard outside and a crashing rumble shook the cavern suddenly. Aela assumed that a dragon or two had been brought down on the SkyForge.

She was feeling more restless than ever, doing nothing but standing around. She knew better, that she should look after the whelps in her charge, but her desire to join the Harbinger of old on the hunt broiled in her veins like in the days when she still had the beast blood.

She looked around at the group and made a split second decision, "I'm heading out to help the others. All of you stay put and watch each other's backs." She turned away and started for the exit.

"I'm going with you!" Nelkir called, running up to her.

She looked down at him ready to protest when he shouted, " _She's my sister_! I want to help! I've been training all this time! I'm ready Harbinger! I wouldn't do this if I wasn't ready!"

Aela twisted her lips and gave a deep sigh, "Alright… fine," Nelkir's eyes lit up but she said more firmly, "Stick close to me and if things get bad you run and hide, you got that? The last thing I want to do is piss off our little dragon for not keeping a proper eye on her only kid brother."

"Got it!" Nelkir said with a trace of a grin and sharp nod of his head.

"Alright, whelp, move out!" Aela said as she pushed open the stone door and stepped into the chaos beyond.

Rona was leaning over Farkas. His leg had been ripped off clean by a dragon and he was bleeding out swift and steady. Vilkas was doing everything he could to talk him through it, to keep him awake and alive while Qetesh poured potion down his throat and Rona cast Restoration over him to stem the bleeding.

"Farkas! Listen to me brother! You've got a wife and a little one on the way – _you hear me!?_ So you stay with me, right here, eyes on me!" Vilkas bade firmly while cradling his brother's head.

Farkas was as pale as a ghost and didn't even try to speak. He was always the stoic one or just in shock, it was hard to tell.

Rona continued to cast her magic over him while Bishop worked to stave off the dragons in the vicinity, with Karnwyr barking madly beside him. He wasn't alone in that, fortunately, as Jillian, Eira, Eroeh and several other nameless Maidens of Dragon Flame were all hard at work battling their fiercest, drawing the attentions of the tiny winged furies every which way before cutting them down.

But with each kill another soul escaped their remains and rushed into Rona, bringing forth a new flaming pain that ignited every nerve ending, followed by horrible visions of war. Each soul held all the last agonizing memories of the Nord who once lived it and it was excruciating. She cried out and lost her focus again as another washed over her. She felt ill and utterly hopeless.

This seemed to be it. Perhaps Alduin had finally won. She was almost ready to give up and let go when the rumbling roars of more dragons echoed in from beyond the wall. They sounded bigger and louder and proved to be as such when they all swooped in together in a tight formation before splitting off around Whiterun.

Bishop was swearing profusely and swinging his sword madly as he attempted to put a halt to three orange beasts that were closing in on them. His efforts were not totally lost, however, when one dragon, the biggest of them all came crashing down hard onto the three smaller creatures right in front of them. The savage beast growled ferociously and tore into the tiny things, ripping them to shreds. Their souls hit Rona all at once and when she finally managed to recover she found herself looking up through a fog of pain at a very large and imposing dragon.

The creature had a thick neck and a strong lower jaw. He appeared to be quite old, with fading bronze scales and dark flakey horns. His beady yellow eyes swiveled for a moment before settling on her and then he spoke, low and rumbling, his voice and tone reminded her much of Paarthurnax, " _Dovahkiin_ … You must fly with us. Odahviing calls for your aid."

"Odahviing?" She breathed trying to get her bearings again. It'd been so long since she'd seen him. Why hadn't he just come for her himself? The sound of Farkas' shuddered gasping drew her attention though and she went right back to trying to heal him while the great dragon loomed over them all.

The group watched as the beast's brothers, six other dragons, flew around taking out and tearing apart as many of the smaller dragons as they could. Rona wasn't sure what to think of it. It wasn't every day dragons were so willing to help her… still if they'd wanted to kill her they had the perfect opportunity.

Bishop kept his eyes trained on the rugged bronze beast, but it merely stared resolutely down at Rona, waiting entirely too patiently for her reply amidst all the chaos. Finally, she seemed to stem the bleeding and noticed that she hadn't been hit by anymore dragon souls in that short period. The bronze dragon spoke again, "Have you decided _Dovahkiin?_ Will you join us?"

Rona stared up at him. She was speechless and wasn't even sure where to start. Bishop, however, wasn't ready to let her go so easily and shouted, "As if! Why should she join you!? What's to stop you from taking her right to Alduin!?"

The dragon turned and looked to Bishop for a moment before he spoke again, "Alduin has chosen to betray his brothers. Our _midun_ … our loyalties no longer lie with him," again his eyes rolled back to her,"Now tell me _Dovahkiin_. Will you fly with us?"

Rona hesitated. She didn't want to leave. Somehow she knew that if she climbed up on that dragon and flew with him she would not see Bishop again for a long time… or perhaps… _ever_. He seemed to feel the same way as he stood by her, pleading with his eyes and his defensive stance for her not to go.

But Odahviing needed her and she knew she couldn't stay. The dragon menace was growing and actively searching for her. Everyone she loved and cared for was in mortal danger. At that moment Farkas was bleeding out because of her, because she was there in Whiterun and the dragons were searching for _her_. Suddenly a figure swept by her and stood before the bronze dragon.

Eira looked up at the beast, stowing her rapier away and said with a wide grin across her face, "[It has been a long time Rektuhah. You must forgive my young descendent here for she is hesitant to leave her wolves behind.]"

"[ _Eiraaa_ … I must admit it pleases me to see you once more]," he gave a low rumbling chuckle, "[Perhaps you will be more successful in convincing the young one of the urgency of our predicament.]"

"[I will certainly try. In the mean time]," Eira glanced around her enormous quarry at the sudden appearance of ten more small orange dragons, "[perchance you'd be so kind as to help us mitigate our current circumstances?]"

Rektuhah raised his head, turning it slightly so that one of his beady eyes easily spotted the prey, "[Yes. I will kill as many as I am able.]" And with that he spun about, stomping across the pathway and began tearing into the little beasts.

Rona braced herself for the inevitable as the incandescent lights shot forth from their bodies, but instead of spiraling towards her they raced up the steps towards the Wind District. Another stranger Rona had never seen before came slowly walking down the stairs. Her long red cloak flowed behind her and her green eyes sparkled with a hunter's focus. She drew her weapon, a shining, white, recurve mammoth bow and pulled a single arrow, tipped with three serrated points from her quiver. She set her sights on one of the small, orange dragons perched up on the blacksmith's roofing. It screeched hatefully at her and made to shout.

With a short intake of breath the woman quickly nocked the arrow and upon exhaling she released it, sending it rapid firing straight through its eye socket. The dragon didn't even get a chance to unleash its fiery breath and instead slumped over and went tumbling off the roofing and onto the ground where it started to burn up. Its soul shot straight at the woman and surrounded her in light instead of Rona.

A strong wind picked up, blowing the hood from the woman's head, revealing her face. There was no doubt in Rona's mind that she was a Bosmer and most likely one of her many Dragonborn descendents. The woman started slowly walking towards them, taking more souls as they spiraled through the air. They surrounded her and absorbed into a strange black pendant hanging from her neck that was made in the shape of a wolf's head. The woman eyed the giant bronze dragon with a defiant glare as his jowls dripped with the blood of his enemies. Finally she stopped and stood by Eira who addressed her almost tauntingly, "Harbinger. I see your master has finally allowed you to join your sisters in battle."

"The hunt was too good to pass up," the Bosmer woman replied.

"So it seems. I am sure he will be pleased with your catch. Needless to say we are grateful for it. Will you be flying with us?"

"No," the Bosmer said firmly, "I have another task I must attend to," her eyes settled on Bishop then and he looked back warily, not sure what to make of the newcomer, let alone the fact that the Maidens were able to speak when normally they were silent, save for their songs of power.

The Bosmer woman looked at Karnwyr then and smirked. The wolf cocked his head at her curiously. Then she whistled sharply and thrust her head out before running back into the fray with the other women. Karnwyr immediately started barking and chasing after her.

"THE FUCK!?" Bishop snapped as his old companion ran off without him, "KARNWYR!"

Eira knelt down by Rona and put a hand to her shoulder, "The Elders are calling for a reunion. They would see that you will join their ranks. You must go with them, Rona."

Bishop looked back down at them and grit his teeth. He seemed to be fighting the urge to go after his wolf because he didn't want to leave Rona.

Eira persisted though, "Why do you hesitate child? Because of a man?" She glanced up at Bishop who scowled back at her.

Rona blinked at her and looked up at Bishop then back down at Farkas who was barely holding on. Vilkas and Qetesh were still doing everything they could to talk him through it, all while listening intently to her strange conversation with the First Maiden.

"I… I can't leave Farkas… or any of them. My friends… _my family_ …" Rona argued.

"Stand aside," Eira said. She forced Rona to move back before leaning over the place where Farkas' leg had once been and shouted, "YOL!" Her shout cauterized his wound and closed it but also burned him badly. He cried out from the pain and Eira looked over at Eroeh who was perched on a low wall, spinning a pair of stalhrim daggers in each hand while attentively scanning the skies overhead.

Eira called to her, "Heal him for me, sister."

Eroeh looked over and frowned slightly at Eira, but complied, hopping off the wall. She strolled over to them, knelt beside him and ran a hand up the side of his perspiring face. He barely opened his eyes to look at her and she gave him a kind smile before leaning down to plant a very firm kiss on his lips. His eyes widened and he looked at her stunned, along with the rest of the group staring. His burn healed entirely and when she pulled away she looked weaker for it, as though all the strength had left her. She took one last glance back at Eira and the two exchanged a look of solidarity before she vanished in a pillar of lavender flames.

Eira waved a hand over his wound and said, "And so he is healed. Now will you join us?"

Still Rona hesitated. Despite everything, even trying to leave herself so many times before, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She looked at Bishop, remembering her promise to him that very morning.

Vilkas spoke to her then and said, "Do what you must Rona… _Dragonborn_. Whatever you choose, know that we're with you," then he looked to Qetesh and said to her, "See if you can help me get this big galoot back to his wife and unborn child. I expect she'll be wanting to see him even if he is down a leg."

"Better to be partially intact than in pieces," Qetesh said as she looped one of his thick arms over her shoulder, along with Vilkas.

Together they easily lifted the huge Nord who was looking around groggily and he muttered, "There was a woman here… a beautiful Breton with silver-white hair… kissed me and slipped her tongue into my mouth. She tasted like juniper berries and smelled like lavender."

"Ah, you were close to Sovngarde brother, being welcomed by the lovely maidens there. Best not mention it to your wife," Vilkas chuckled.

"She was so real though…" Farkas mumbled.

"Hush now, Farkas," Qetesh said gently, "Let's see to it that our efforts to keep you alive aren't for naught. And knowing my sister, if she hears a word about this you won't have any legs left, most especially the third."

The three of them hurried up the path leaving Bishop, Rona and the persistent Maiden alone. Still Rona couldn't bring herself to budge. Her mind was a conflicted mess and Bishop muttered, "Ladyship…"

It was a pathetic whimper of a plea. Underneath that one word was him begging her not to go, but Eira, it seemed, had other plans. She drew her rapier, stood before Rona and said with all the strength in her voice, "I understand your feelings Dragonborn. I too faced many dilemmas in my time and suffered with a slew of conflicting thoughts and emotions, but you must open your eyes now and see that all of this is much greater than your wants and desires. If you do not stop what is to come then there will be _nothing_ left for either of you." In moments the air around them filled with the sound of music and Eira sang.

(The Song is _Oceans_ by Evanescence)

" _Don't want to be the one to walk away  
But I can't bear the thought of one more day  
I think I finally understand what it means to be lost_

 _Can't find the road to lead us out of this  
A million miles from where we burned the bridge  
Can't keep pretending everything's gonna be alright  
With the whole world falling down on me_

 _Cross the oceans in my mind  
Find the strength to say goodbye  
In the end you never can wash the blood from your hands."_

Her song was a like a bright beacon drawing in all of the dragons. The tiny orange furies began to gather again, like a great hoard, ignoring the six other dragons that were working to rip them all to shreds. Clustered together as they were, like a huge school of fish, the elder dragons stood no chance. They simply could not bring down the vortex of pure, enraged, fury.

But Eira stood strong and tall, scowling fiercely at the beasts above before they swarmed, screeching and rushed down at them all. Bishop threw himself over Rona to cover her and Eira shouted, loud and proud.

Ulfric Stormcloak was struggling to fight off his own men out in the farmlands to the north of Whiterun. One of them managed to bash him hard in the skull with a shield and he fell back, nearly losing his footing. His most trusted general and closest companion Galmar Stone-Fist leapt in and quickly caved in the head of the ally now turned enemy, before he had a chance to kill Ulfric. Galmar caught his breath for a moment before pressing forward, continuing to battle fiercely against his own men and prepared to give his life for his Jarl.

But Ulfric was not ready to lose his most loyal comrade and he quickly collected himself and chose to leap in front of the man, risking his own mortality and shouted, "FUS!" sending a dozen Stormcloak soldiers violently tumbling down a snowbank. Some broke their necks from the wild wind but the others immediately pushed themselves up, barely taking notice of their cuts and bruises before beginning their assault anew.

"ULFRIC! HERE!" Galmar called from the side of a farmhouse. He started climbing up a wooden trellis nailed to the stone wall. He pulled himself up onto the roof of the building and grabbed Ulfric's hand, who had immediately followed and pulled him up. The Stormcloaks below seemed too stupid or confused to follow them and instead turned on each other in their rage.

Ulfric caught his breath, slumping down beside his friend and looked out over the fields. It looked like a war zone, but one which made no sense to him, for the only ones fallen or standing were his own men.

"It's madness," Galmar muttered.

"It's the dragons," Ulfric replied, "And I think I know why they're here."

Galmar glowered as he looked out at the city towering above the fields. Whiterun was overrun with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of small dragons and a loud song was bursting from behind the burning walls. "The Dragonborn," Galmar said knowingly.

"She's been alive this whole time," Ulfric said, half-laughing, "Right under our noses. I should have realized it when I met her companion back at the inn…"

"Damned knife-eared bitch," Galmar growled.

But Ulfric shook his head, "No. She may be part elf but the woman is all Nord. I knew it from the moment I met her."

Galmar glanced at him skeptically before shaking his head, "You know my feelings on it. Can't trust the lot of them, half-breed or no."

"She is honorable and lives by her word," Ulfric said firmly, "She may be small and she may be an elf but Akatosh knew what he was doing when he chose her… and the fact that she is alive bodes well for us."

Galmar scoffed loudly and argued, "Half our men are dead and not even after fighting the Imperial dogs but each other instead. But you say it's good she's alive. Looks like our boys beat you over the head too hard, Ulfric."

"Think about it Galmar. She's powerful and unyielding like a Nord, yet has all the cunning of the elves. And she is the _only one_ … who can save us all."

Galmar looked over at his Jarl, studying his face. He was being sincere. He meant every word and as much as he despised the elves he was inclined to agree with him but still spoke facetiously, "If what you say is true then it's a shame we couldn't persuade her to join us."

Ulfric smiled despite himself as he looked out at the burning city and watched as the small dragons reconvened together into another huge spiraling unit while several other larger dragons attempted to rip them apart. "Someday soon the Dragonborn will need our help Galmar and when that day comes I will force her hand to our side."

Galmar laughed loudly in disbelief, "Our boys really did knock all the sense out of you."

But Ulfric only smiled more and watched with great interest as the few larger dragons fought to aid the Dragonborn. His mind was turning with ideas on how to use their power to his benefit.

Eira managed to push back the tide of enemies with the force of her voice alone, shouting a form of _FUS RO DAH_ that rivaled the power of all the Dragonborn combined.

Maybe it was just Rona's feelings and how strong they were in that moment fueling the First Maiden or perhaps Eira really was the strongest of them all, but Rona's fears were overtaking her then. There was a great battle being held within her own to make a choice. Bishop was holding her tightly to him. She could feel the pulse of his heart pounding in his chest. He felt it too, fear for their lives and fear for her leaving again.

But it was time. She could not evade it any longer.

Destiny was calling.

(The Song is _In Vain_ by Within Temptation)

And as Eira's song came to a close one sprang forth from Rona, one which was the epitome of all of her feelings in that moment. The words never even left her lips, only her mind.

" _Beautify all I know, keep on dancing  
Let it all turn to gold  
When the dream touches ground  
The demons walk in, and I know what awaits_

 _A priceless glory  
Memento mori  
All for nothing now  
I know_

 _Nothing of the heart remains  
Even if we could've stayed  
We've been here long enough  
Long enough to know it's all in vain  
Everything we tried to say  
Up until the final day  
I guess we said enough  
Said enough to know it's all in vain."_

She felt Bishop clutch her even tighter at the sound of those words. _All in vain_. She turned in his arms and looked up at him, running her hands up the sides of his face as she stared deeply and mournfully into his handsome amber eyes. She wanted to remember the look of them for as long as she lived. Her heart ached with love for him and the loss of the life they could have had together. She felt tears stinging her eyes and despite all the fire, flames and utter chaos around them she leaned in, feeling his breath on her lips, she took the moment and kissed him with all the passion in her soul.

He returned her vigor with his own, showing how much he loved her, how much he cared and wanted to remain with her. She felt his hands cradling her head, running through her hair as they deepened their kiss. She started to memorize the feel of his mouth on hers, the roughness of his facial stubble as it pressed against her cheek, the softness of his lips and the way his tongue coiled and danced with hers. She memorized the scent of pine and leather on him and all the passion he exuded in his very being for her.

And then their lips parted and he pressed his forehead to hers and looked her deep in the eyes. Still grasping at the side of her head, with tears in his eyes, he whispered, "You promised, Rona. _You promised._ "

She ran her thumb across his cheek, catching and wiping away one of the stray tears he'd tried so hard to keep at bay. She choked back her own tears and said, "I lied."

And with that she shouted, "TIID KLO UL!"

Time came to a halt and the look of pain and anguish on his face tore her heart open. But it had to be done. He had to stay away, even if it meant breaking his heart again and again. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "I love you, Bishop, more than you'll ever know. I'll understand if you can never forgive me… just live. _Promise me you'll live._ "

She pulled away from his grasp and turned back where she saw Rektuhah still standing by in the plaza, at the moment frozen in time with his jowls crunching down on the body of an orange fury.

Rona went to him and stood before the beast. She could see his eyes following her and knew he could hear her so she looked up at him and said, "I'm ready. Take me to Odahviing."

When time broke Rektuhah immediately dropped the dragon from his jaws and leaned down to her height. She gripped his horn and dared to look back at Bishop who was making no effort to chase her this time. Instead he watched her with a look of grief and anger all over his face. She had betrayed him.

It had happened there once before. A time that seemed so long ago when he'd become a werewolf and it had been her fault. This time however he looked as though he would truly, _never_ , forgive her. It may have been what she wanted but it didn't stop the hurt she felt inside. She looked away from him then, pulled herself onto the enormous bronze beast who roared loudly, calling to the others. He spread his gargantuan wings and swept off the ground. She gripped his horns tightly and released her voice to the skies, luring all the smaller dragons to her. She would lead them away from the city. It was all she could do to protect her loved ones.

Niven stood by in the shadow of a house, cloaked in his illusion spell and watched the entire scene unfold. The Dragonborn saying what looked like a tearful goodbye to the ranger before she disappeared and reappeared right by a huge dragon. She had no inkling of fear as she climbed up on it and flew away. The great bronze beast roared so loud above them that the entire hill Whiterun stood on shook all over like a small earthquake hit it.

Niven thrust a hand out to the side of the house, holding himself steady and watched as the six bigger dragons rejoined their comrade in the skies. The seven of them plus the Dragonborn flew off to the east. Her song slowly faded in the distance while a hoard of the smaller dragons chased wildly after them, screeching and chittering madly in dragon tongue.

The elf could hardly believe he'd just survived all of that. But what was even more astonishing to him was that his mark was right there, sitting stupidly in the middle of the streets of Whiterun, just staring at the spot where she'd left. Now was his chance. He could easily kill the ranger and none would be the wiser of it. Yet something held him back. He couldn't explain it.

Then a woman walked by him, startling him. He'd thought all the civilians had either escaped or been killed. She stopped a moment and looked right back at him as if she could actually see him. In fact he was sure she could with the way her bright green eyes scanned his height up and down.

She appeared to be mildly disgruntled at the sight of him. He studied her for a moment in return and noticed that she was a full blooded Bosmer straight from Valenwood. This was rare for him. He hadn't seen one of his adoptive kin dressed in the most true to culture clothing he'd ever seen in a very long time. She was definitely a pure blood. She had to be and he wondered if she'd recognized him.

It couldn't be possible though. His entire village had been killed by the Thalmor ages ago and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him somehow. A smirk curled at her lips revealing a pair of sharpened canines. _A follower of the Green Pact?_ He wondered. She swept away from him and then he felt movement and looked down to see the ranger's wolf sniffing curiously at his feet before the animal turned to follow after the Bosmer woman.

Niven moved closer to them, keeping himself cloaked and listened and watched with deep interest as she stopped beside the ranger.

"What will you do now?" She asked him pointedly.

(The Song is _Volunteer Pt. 1_ by The Spiritual Machines)

Another song started to sweep through the air then and the wind kicked up. Bishop hardly noticed or realized that it was coming from him. His anger was beyond control it seemed. He was seeing red. He was _livid_.

She lied. _She lied_. She fucking _**LIED**_.

"Right to my face," he uttered. His whole body was shaking with rage, "She _**lied**_ to _my fucking face_."

The sound of the music was drawing the attention of the few dragons that had lagged behind the group that left. They started to cluster around him, flying in circles above and landed on the buildings nearby, studying him and the Bosmer woman curiously.

She smiled mischievously and drew her bow, nocking an arrow as she said, "That's it. _Feel_ your wrath. You buried it for so long… it's time to set it free. Let it consume your very being. Let it _ignite_ everything. Now tell me, _rumenya_. What the _fuck_ are you going to do about it?"

Bishop drew his sword and stood up. He looked at the first dragon nearest to him on his right, perched on a shop sign. He was out for blood. He had to maim and kill something and what better to take his rage out on than the very things which were keeping the woman he loved from him? He beat his sword against his shield and roared, "COME GET ME YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!"


	18. Chapter 18 Odahviing

**Chapter 18**

 **Odahviing**

(The Song is _You Are the Warning_ by the Spiritual Machines)

Flames were licking all up and down the dried bark of the Gildergreen. The poor thing had already been slowly dying over the last year and now it seemed it was going to burn to the ground. Aela, however, was not concerned with this as she pulled her dripping dagger from the eye socket of one of the smaller dragons with a grunt.

Things like the loss of ancient and divine trees didn't really seem to matter much in that moment, that is until she heard Nelkir cry out behind her. She turned away from the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr and saw the boy doing his best to hold his own against one of the few orange furies still left there. With his blades up and crossed defensively, it started to back him towards the burning tree which was threatening to topple over right on top of him.

She made to move, to rescue her young charge, when a serrated arrow spun through the air and shunted into the body of the creature. The dragon hissed and spun around to see what was attacking it. Without hesitation, Harbinger Wyllin fired another shot into the creature, getting it right in the left eye, a trace of a snarl curled at her lips.

Then Bishop came barreling past her with Karnwyr at his side, his hatred and anger plainly etched on his face and the wild song filling the air further emphasizing the feeling. He threw himself at the distracted dragon, slamming his sword into its thick hide before ripping it back out again. Karnwyr leapt onto the wailing beast, tearing chunks from its body as Bishop slammed his sword in again, roaring loudly with each attack.

His heart was filled with rage and he intended to unleash it on every last one of those bastards. The dragon reared up and roared at him. He replied with a roar of his own as he buried his blade right into its throat, just as flames started licking all up its esophagus. The fires within were trapped and with nowhere to release, instead, they exploded out of its neck sending Bishop, Karnwyr and Nelkir careening in all directions from the blast.

Nelkir slammed hard, back first, into the burning Gildergreen and rolled to the ground, dazed. The force of the blow caused the tree to splinter and set it in motion to finally collapse. Bishop pushed himself off the ground, blood dripping from a slew of cuts and scrapes all over his face, chest and arms. He glanced up and saw the tree crumbling and Nelkir slumped beneath it,but Aela was already on it. She rushed in and grabbed Nelkir by the collar of his armor and dragged him out of the way just as the tree crashed onto the ground, sending bits of charred bark and debris flying.

Bishop caught his breath and got up. Aela was livid and stormed right up to him and forced herself up to meet his height. She jabbed a finger at him and snarled into his face, "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN HIM KILLED WITH THAT STUNT!"

He grit his teeth and scowled at her. He was pissed but knew he hardly had a leg to stand on. He looked over at Nelkir who was sitting cross legged on the ground and rubbing at the bruise on the back of his head.

Aela was still seething, her eyes cutting into him and he backed away from her and breathed, "I'm sorry. I should've…"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN HIM OUT OF THERE!" Aela snapped, "First things first! Always pull your Shield-Brother out of the fire before running in yourself!"

Bishop turned away from her and pulled a bottle of potion from his pocket and walked over to Nelkir, handing it to him, "Sorry kid. Here, this should help with the pain."

Nelkir took the bottle and worked to uncork it saying, "It's okay. I'm alright. But… what about Rona? Where is she?"

Bishop felt his gut twist with a mixture of anger and heartache. He looked away from the boy, pretending to scan the skies for more dragons and said, "She's gone."

Nelkir choked on the potion and gasped, "GONE!? LIKE – _DEAD!?"_

Bishop turned back to him, his fist gripping his sword tightly as he worked to hide his emotions from the boy, "No. She left."

"Left where?" Aela asked from behind him.

He waved a hand to the sky irritably, "I don't fucking know! She flew off on a godsdamned dragon!" Aela gaped at him and he sighed and rubbed a hand to his head, trying to calm down, "A _friendly_ dragon… I think. Not sure, but she seemed to trust it… trusted it more than me," he mumbled the last part.

Aela looked to the skies and said, "So that's why they left." Then her gaze fell to the young Bosmer woman who was seated on a charred chunk of Gildergreen while she idly stroked Karnwyr on the head. Aela nodded towards her and asked Bishop, "Then why's this one still here? Shouldn't the ghosts follow her?"

"Fuck if I know," Bishop growled as he helped Nelkir to his feet and dusted him off, "Had another one following me around for a while. First time I've seen this one."

"Her name is Wyllin," Aela said, "Harbinger Wyllin. She was once a leader of the Companions," she looked at Karnwyr who was enjoying the head scratch so much that his back paw started to swipe the air and added, "She was a true werewolf and a devout worshipper of Hircine."

Bishop approached Aela and stood beside her, arms crossed, "A werewolf, huh?"

"Mmhm," Aela murmured as she grasped at her chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe she can turn me then," Bishop said.

Aela snapped her head at him and stammered, confounded, "Wha-what!? You… want the gift again?"

"I need it," Bishop said, still staring at Wyllin. She was making a cooing face at a very happy Karnwyr while she rubbed up and down his neck before her gaze slowly rose to meet his and she smirked at him mischievously. "I need the beast blood. It's the only way to help Rona."

With that declaration the Bosmer woman hopped up from the tree and started walking towards the stairs leading down into the Plains District. She stopped at the steps and turned to look at them all, a pair of her fingers pressed to her lips and she whistled sharply. She turned on the spot and raced down the stairs with Karnwyr bolting after her.

"SHIT!" Bishop snarled and took off after them.

Aela looked back at Nelkir and said, "Come on whelp!"

They all went chasing after Wyllin and Karnwyr, bolting around the central well in the marketplace and darted around several homes and businesses. Wyllin slipped down an alley and took a sharp turn around a pile of rubble and several dragon bones.

The others barely managed to keep up with her when they all came to an abrupt stop, nearly crashing into her as she stood in front of a small cottage with a thatched roof that was burning. Karnwyr was sniffing around the bushes in front of the home and found a spot he liked and immediately lifted his leg and let go, putting out a small fire as he did so.

In an instant the old woman who lived there came bursting outside and shouted, "MY TEA-LEAF WILLOWS!" She grumbled and growled then stormed right up to Bishop, fists curled furiously at her sides and barked, " _You again!?_ What did I tell you about letting your wolf do his business all over my willows!?"

Bishop cocked a brow at her, vaguely remembering his last interaction with the woman nearly a year ago.

"Old Olava will curse you! That she will!" She turned right around and walked back into her burning house as if it wasn't on fire at all.

They all just gaped at her and in a moment she came back outside again with a handful of powder in her palm and held it up to Bishop's face. She made to blow it out of her hand when Wyllin grasped the woman by the arm to stop her. Olava turned and looked at the Bosmer who was giving her a harsh glare and she gasped and dropped the powder all over the ground as she pulled away.

"Oh Unholy Matron… you're," she looked shocked at first then turned her head curiously and tentatively approached Wyllin before poking her cheek with a finger, "You're so _real_ ," then she got more bold and started pinching parts of the Bosmer who looked wholly unamused, "how is this possible?"

Wyllin bat the woman's probing hands away and motioned her head to Bishop. Olava looked back over at him and scrunched her face looking disgusted, "Of course. _The man_."

Bishop scowled at her and crossed his arms, "The hell do you mean by that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Olava said plainly. The three of them just stared at her, expectantly and Olava finally scoffed, motioning a hand to him and said, "Because he is her Unadaan."

Their expressions perked curiously and Bishop raised a brow at her, "The fuck?"

Olava waved a hand through the air and said plainly, "Unadaan is Chosen in Dovahzuul. You are chosen by the Dragonborn. Your feelings for one another are very powerful. It allows you to summon the Maidens as though you were Dragonborn yourself. Tell me, have you felt the power of your emotions channeled through song like her?"

Bishop stared at her stunned and recalled the strange music that had filled the air around him earlier. The voice had been a man's instead of a woman's. That had been _his_ power… not hers.

Olava seemed to be reading his changing expressions and said with a knowing tone, "I thought as much. Don't be surprised if you start seeing the men as well."

"The men?" Aela asked.

"Yes," Olava nodded, "The other Unadaan; the men who once shouldered the burdens of their Vahdin, their Maidens. They may appear to help you on your journey… you want to help her don't you?"

"Of course I do," Bishop said, feeling more irritated than ever that Rona hadn't allowed him to go with her and help her, "I'd give anything to find that stupid fucking Scroll and finally put an end to it all!"

Olava smirked at him, "You wish to end it all, hm? Well… considering the circumstances and _despite_ your disrespect for my property, I suppose old Olava can help you find it."

" _What?_ " Bishop gaped at her.

"You know a way to find the Elder Scroll?" Aela gasped.

"Come along inside, all of you. I will show you." Olava stepped back inside her burning home and the three of them hung back as the rafters cracked loudly from the biting flames.

"Uuhh," Nelkir murmured hesitantly, "But your house is on fire."

Olava poked her head outside and glanced up at the burning roof, "Never mind that. The rain will arrive any moment to put it out," and she turned back inside again.

They all stared at the door skeptically and Bishop glanced to the clear skies and scoffed, "Rain? What is this woman on? There's not a damn cloud in sight."

Wyllin, however, ignored them all and walked right in, with Karnwyr bravely following behind her. The three of them looked at one another and Aela finally shrugged her shoulders and led the way for the other two inside.

They found Olava sifting through the drawer of her bedside night stand, dangerously close to the burning end of the home when she motioned to the table and chairs on the other side of the room and said, "Go on then. Have a seat."

Wyllin was leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed and Karnwyr was lying dutifully at her feet. Bishop couldn't understand why the wolf was so attached to her, but then again, Aela had said she was a werewolf, so it was possible the wolf felt a strong connection to her.

He pulled up a chair at the table along with Nelkir, although Aela remained standing and stared anxiously at the burning ceiling. She made to speak when Olava, who was still busy rummaging through her drawer, jut a finger out suddenly and said, "Wait for it."

They all held still for a moment when a loud clap of thunder broke through the air outside and in seconds the roof was being drenched in thick pellets of rain. With the rapid drumming of the unexpected downpour, the fire went out and instead of burning, the ceiling now started to leak where the flames had left gaping holes.

Olava ignored it and said, "Ah-HAH!" She pulled out a fairly large crystal ball, which was surprising since it looked like it would have been the only thing to fit inside the drawer. Bishop wondered why it took her so long to find it at all.

Olava stepped around a puddle in the middle of the room, cradling the ball in her arms and carefully set it onto a silver stand set in the center of the table. She took the only remaining chair across from Bishop and next to Nelkir and leaned her elbows onto the table and laced her wrinkled fingers together, eyeing Bishop.

"Well then… you wish to aid the Dragonborn and you seek the Beast Blood in order to do so, is that right?"

Bishop gave the stern old woman a quick once over and glanced at the now leaking ceiling. Clearly, she had some kind of power, one of a predictive nature and he felt he could at the very least trust her to put him on the right path, "If it will help us find the Scroll and put an end to all this bullshit once and for all, then yes. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good," Olava said and she pressed her hands to the ball, "I will show you the way. Gloves off and press your hands to the crystal like so."

Bishop started to pull his gloves off and studied the crystal. There was nothing unusual about it. It looked like an ordinary blue crystal ball, yet he was naturally wary of anything magic. But as his mind rolled over the thought of what had happened that day and of Rona and the pained look she gave him as she admitted that she'd lied straight to his face he felt his frustrations and fury rising. He raised his hands and thrust them onto the ball, grasping it.

(The Music is _Feral Spirit_ by Paleowolf)

The moment he touched it though Karnwyr began howling and he went to pull his hands away because of how scalding hot it was. His hands however decided to remain attached to the thing against his will and it slowly started to change from a cold dark blue to an angry red beneath his palms and Olava whispered, "Yes, that's it. Channel your anger into it."

He hadn't realized that his breathing was becoming panicked until Aela shouted, "Bishop! Let it go!"

Nelkir stood up and backed away from the brightly glowing orb but Wyllin remained perfectly calm. The Bosmer woman had her arms crossed and was staring deeply into Bishop's eyes. He couldn't seem to break his gaze away as his vision started to tunnel towards her and the old woman began to chant some nonsense in a language he'd never heard before.

"BISHOP! LET IT GO!" Aela grabbed one of his wrists with both hands and tried to pull him off of it, but it was no use. Everything began to fade around him, along with Aela's and Nelkir's panicked shouting. Only Karnwyr's howls pierced his ears as he felt himself falling into the depths of Wyllin's haunting green eyes and all went dark.

Then he heard the sounds of low growling, like that of a wolf and he slowly opened his eyes looking for Karnwyr. Everything was faded and foggy and he realized that he was in a forest somewhere. He heard the sounds of scratching nearby and turned to see what it was only to find himself surrounded by at least a dozen werewolves who were illuminated by a few sparse rays of moonlight which pierced the cloud cover above.

One of them was much bigger than the rest. He had thick black fur which was bald in places where enormous and jagged scars carved up and around his chest, arms and legs. He had an odd patch of fur which traveled up his right arm and rested on his shoulder in the shape of a large white hand. His eyes were bloodshot and glowing as red as the blood that dripped from his jowls. He prowled around Bishop with all the hairs on his back standing upright, bristled in anger as his growls rumbled low in his throat.

Bishop felt the urgency to run yet his body would not move. The werewolf swept by him once more, dragging his heavy black claws through the leaf-strewn dirt again, making that scratching noise. Suddenly, without warning, he pounced, crushing Bishop under his weight. Bishop felt himself trembling and his voice came out in whimpers but he realized it was not his voice at all.

The werewolf's snout was inches from his face and he could smell the stench of the beast's hot breath permeating his nostrils. Then the werewolf spoke and his voice came through like a man was speaking over a monster.

"You feel it don't you? The change will come soon."

The body that Bishop currently resided in shakily lifted his left arm up and looked it over. It was dripping blood where the werewolf had clearly bitten him, leaving dozens of pronounced puncture marks on it.

The werewolf pulled away from him as the man whimpered again. He turned his back on the pathetic man and said, "You will regret trying to hunt us down. But I am not so cruel. I'm willing to give anyone a second chance. If you want to live you must become one of us… and to do that, you must take an innocent life."

"An innocent… _life?_ " His voice shook.

The werewolf turned back and looked at him and Bishop was sure he was smiling when he said, "Yes. _Innocent_. Falkreath is nearby… there are plenty of villagers to choose from. And don't worry, Sinding," he started to laugh as the clouds above began to part revealing a full moon, "It won't be as difficult as you might think. The first time you're never really yourself and the call of the blood is so much stronger than the desire to keep the law." His laughs echoed ruthlessly through the forest as Bishop felt the old, yet familiar sensation of his bones breaking apart, grinding together and reshaping themselves into another form. Thick patches of fur sprouted all over his body and he sucked in a sharp breath, thrust his chest out and released a long howl to the full, shining moon above.

His vision tunneled again and he came rushing back to reality, nearly falling out of his chair as he felt the muscles in his arms release all tension and he finally let go of the crystal ball on the table. His seat rattled under him as he fell back in it and he gripped the sides.

He was dripping in sweat, his heart was pounding in his chest and he could still feel the lingering terror and the surge of irrationality from the mind he'd just been inside of as it changed from man to beast. He swallowed hard and looked back over at the old woman who was sitting with her elbows propped on the table and her fingers laced together. She had an eerie grin spread across her face.

"What are _you_ looking at?" He grumbled irritably.

"Do you know what you saw just then?"

"Yeah a bunch of fucking werewolves terrorizing people out by Falkreath."

Aela gasped and Bishop turned to look at her. All the color drained from her face and she uttered three words, "The Dredge Hounds…"

"The _what_ hounds?" Bishop asked, quirking a brow at her.

She shook her head and crossed her arms nervously, "The Dredge Hounds… they're a group of werewolves that live out near Falkreath."

He studied her for a moment before he slowly asked, "How do you know about them?"

Her lip trembled and then her eyes glanced around at their present company, all of whom were staring at her save for Olava who was busy scratching the top of Karnwyr's head and smirking at him.

"I… I was one of them a long time ago. Skjor and I both were."

Bishop looked her straight in the eyes and said, "What about Brandr?"

Her eyes widened and she turned away shamefully and nodded, "Yeah… him too."

Bishop stood up, fists clenched and said, "Tell me everything."

(The Music is _Black Sky_ by RokNardin)

Rona clung to Rektuhah's horns as he bound through the skies, flying faster than she'd ever experienced on a dragon. Considering they were being chased by hundreds of tiny orange furies, it was no wonder he flew with such urgency. She could hardly keep her eyes open from the wind alone.

The other six dragons followed close behind, doing what they could to tear apart any smaller dragons that managed to catch up with them. It was unfortunate, however, for each and every small dragon that was killed, their souls would pierce her body like arrows and leave her gasping in pain. Over and over again she was hit with their incandescent power and she saw horrible visions of war and death and felt nothing but pain and fear.

The lives of Nords on both sides of the war burrowed into her mind and she felt her strength leaving her and her grip weakening. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on for when another soul pierced into her and her grip slipped and she slid down the side of the enormous bronze beast.

Eira materialized on Rektuhah and reached for Rona, trying to grab her. Their fingertips barely touched as Rona started plummeting down. Eira shouted something in Dovahzuul, catching Rektuhah's attention as she leapt off his body diving for her and a song burst out of her, louder and stronger than ever.

(The Song is _Whisper_ by Evanescence)

Rona watched through waning vision as Eira barreled straight into a flock of dragons and bound off and around them, swiping wildly at them with her rapier and tearing their wings to shreds.

" _Catch me as I fall  
Say you're here and it's all over now  
Speaking to the atmosphere  
No one's here and I fall into myself  
This truth drives me  
Into madness  
I know I can stop the pain  
If I will it all away  
If I will it all away"_

Rona was plummeting so fast and held her hands out, trying to cast her magic as she whispered the incantation to slow her fall. But one of the smaller dragons crashed into her, throwing her across the sky right into another as it caught her and buried its claws into her back. She shrieked in agony and barely saw the blur of a blood dragon sweep by, snatching the orange fury into its jaws. The small dragon released her as it gave a final screech and she bounced off of the tail of the blood dragon only to land hard onto the body of a common tan one.

She gave a harsh grunt on impact and clutched his spines, shaking all over as she felt her blood pouring from the fresh wounds on her back. Then she was hit with the soul of another one of those horrible creatures and she shuddered, gritting her teeth to bear through the new pain.

The common dragon roared out in Dovahzuul, "[Hold steady Dragonborn! We rise to sky!"]

She gripped the spines as tight as she could as the tan beast rolled through the sky then, flying upward at breakneck speed while evading the orange furies coming at them from all directions. She helplessly watched as the bigger ones fought tirelessly against this dragon army, doing everything they could to protect her… to get her to _safety_. Rektuhah was struggling with a cluster of them. They pinned themselves to him and swarmed all over his enormous body trying to overwhelm him. He let out a bellow of a roar as he tore them off and crashed alongside a nearby mountain, trying to wipe them from his hide.

Then the tan beast beneath her reared back and roared in agony. Her body was thrown backward, legs kicking out as she clung on to his spines for dear life. He was struggling with something she couldn't see, or help him with.

And then she saw him.

The chillingly, familiar dark blue scales and black pointed horns of one of Alduin's fiercest generals. Nosvaat had his jowls deeply clamped over the common dragon's throat and his claws buried in his underbelly. He started throwing his head back and forth, tearing flesh and choking the dragon, either trying to strangle him or break his neck.

The tan beast thrashed through the air and they immediately started losing altitude very quickly. She heard several loud crunches and the cries of the others roaring, "[HE HAS MULSOTEK!]"

"[CATCH THE DRAGONBORN! SHE CANNOT FALL!]"

When the thrashing stopped so suddenly though and his body started to burn beneath her she screamed, "No! NO!"

Before she knew it, she was clinging to nothing but bones as Nosvaat circled her in the air, keeping speed as she fell. The common dragon's soul swept over her and Alduin's general set his vicious gaze on her. He attempted to dart forward and snatch her when a blood and frost dragon smashed into him and they broke into a wild fight, shouting ice and fire every which way. Another caught her out of the sky before she fell too far. It was a great purple one, a legendary dragon. He held her in his claws and roared angrily, "[WE CANNOT CONTINUE IN THIS WAY, REKTUHAH! THERE ARE TOO MANY! AND NOW NOSVAAT! YOLAHVIING AND NAANKEST ARE NO MATCH FOR HIM!]"

Rektuhah caught up to them, looking worse for wear with bloody gashes all over his thick hide. He rumbled out, "[I fear you are right, Krozeim.]" Then his great yellow eye swiveled and spotted Rona in his brother's clutches and he shouted, "[Eira is not enough Dragonborn! You must call on Taniil! Maiden of Storms!]"

 _Taniil?_ She'd only met her a few times in her dreams. She was a beautiful, tall half-Altmer woman who had all the striking features of the high elves, including their height. She allowed the thought of the woman burn into her mind and in seconds a new song soared through the skies followed by the clap of a shout, "STRUN BAH QO!"

(The Song is Paulo J. Mendes - Ragnarök feat. Alexa Ray)

The sky immediately darkened with thick and heavy clouds as lightning exploded from the cumulonimbus and lashed into the tiny dragons disintegrating them on impact. It must have destroyed their souls as well because she did not feel them pierce her body.

She noticed the other two dragons struggling in their fight against Nosvaat, and then another two flew in, joining the battle. But Nosvaat was ready for all of them as he shouted a wave of purplish power against them all, sapping their energy to restore himself. Rektuhah mustered up his strength and turned back, sweeping in with a deep focus on the dark enemy before him. Rona noticed a tall Altmer woman standing upon his head, dancing and singing. She wore a white corset with tight fitting beige trousers and her light brown hair waved wetly through the windy rain. Rektuhah roared a power Rona had never seen before, "QO NOS THUL!"

An incredible electrical energy burst from the dragon's maw and crashed into Nosvaat. To top it off, Taniil began casting her own shots of crackling electrical magic. It spiraled from her hands as she focused on directing the lightning strikes coming from the storm onto all the orange furies. She was so beautiful and so powerful. The woman seemed to exude nothing but confidence and strength. Rona only wished she could feel the same.

With the smaller dragons being obliterated so quickly and six large dragons threatening to carry on the fight, Nosvaat seemed to think better of it and quickly retreated, calling the furies back with him.

The rest of the larger dragons regrouped, closing ranks in a protective formation around Krozeim who was still carrying Rona in his claw. She could see Rektuhah below them as well as Taniil Storm-Ire still dancing upon his head and proudly singing to the skies.

" _We are legends! This is Armageddon!"_

Rona gripped the scaly claw of the purple beast carrying her, feeling utterly useless. She tried to ignore the ache in her back and focused on remaining awake when all she wanted to do was pass out after their ordeal.

The group flew swiftly and quietly over the hills and plains of Eastmarch. Rona could barely see the tiny travelers on the roads below and hoped they were too busy shielding their eyes from the rain to see the six dragons flying overhead. Only six… because they'd lost one.

"Mulsotek," she whispered his name. He was a dragon who'd given his life to guard and protect her and she took his soul for herself. Something she couldn't help.

Krozeim heard her and said, "[Yes. One of our brothers. A young one…]"

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely.

Krozeim growled and spoke low so only she could hear over the thunder and rain, "[As you should be, mortal…]"

Rektuhah however turned his head ever so slightly at them, glancing at the legendary beast curiously, before pressing forward and leading the way over the badlands. They flew towards the forested mountains just beyond Stony Creek Cave and stopped short of the Dwemer ruin, Kagrenzel. Rona recognized the area as she'd been there several times before. Once at Stony Creek with Bishop what seemed like ages ago and then again at the ruins, searching for the Elder Scroll to no avail.

(Background Music Youtube: _Peaceful Piano & Soft Rain - Relaxing Sleep Music, A Bitter Rain_)

The dragons landed in the midst of a lush and foggy forest. Krozeim was careful to set Rona down gently as Rektuhah was nearby, watching them. She rolled out of his claws and stifled a groan, then took a deep breath and stood up, gritting her teeth with the pain in her back with each move she made.

She needed healing, but so did they. She looked around at her current company; dragons of all kinds stood around her, bloodied and bruised after their fierce battles. All so they could find her and bring her to Odahviing. She wanted to help them but before she could do anything Rektuhah motioned his head towards a thicket lodged in the mountainside.

"[This way Dragonborn. Odahviing awaits, though I fear the worst for him…]"

It was hard to see through the heavy rain and mist but she knew he was there. She'd never trusted a group of strange dragons more than she did now and followed him. Rektuhah slowly walked forward, using the tops of his wings to grip the slippery grass.

"[It is a good sign]," he said, "[No souls have entered your body. It means he is still alive.]"

Krozeim grunted, "[Hmph… for now.]"

Rektuhah ignored his fellow and continued on. Rona hoped there was some form of shelter nearby. She was soaked to the bone and freezing and all she wanted to do was curl up next to a fire and sleep but she was also eager to see her friend. They passed through many trees and reached an open ceiling cave set in the mountainside. Although parts of it were wide open to the sky it provided enough shelter to get them all out of the rain.

The inside of the cave had what almost looked like step up ledges covered in old hardened magma which was broken in places where grass had sprouted. There were significantly less trees within, but still many surprisingly tall pines. It was obviously an old lava tube connected to the Red Mountain, which erupted long, long ago. The landscape had revived itself with flourishing lush greenery, flowers and old trees.

Rektuhah gave a shout which echoed around the space, "FAHDON!"

Rona saw movement up on one of the higher ledges and then the weak raising of a pair of wings. Odahviing looked out over at the group and Rona's eyes widened at the sight of him and, ignoring her own pain, hurried up the slope towards him, slipping a bit on the damp cave floor. She got her bearings and scrambled up the incline until finally reaching him where he was nestled in a grass strewn hollow resting and breathing deeply and slowly.

"Odahviing! Odahviing you're-!" she stopped abruptly and gasped throwing her hands to her mouth. She could see instantly that he was in serious trouble, with horrible gashes and scabbed up wounds all over his body. Parts of him still were bleeding where the lesions tore open again when he moved. One eye was even closed over where he'd obviously been scratched badly.

And despite all this he still grinned at the sight of her, the way dragons do with his jowls arcing up and showing all his pointed back teeth, "They have found you young one… I am glad."

"Oh gods what happened to you?" She uttered before immediately setting to work healing him as best she could, summoning all her powers of healing and casting it over him.

Odahviing watched her as she slowly worked her way around his body, touching on each and every abrasion. He gave a low groan of relief when she healed the worst one in his side and said, "You were right to worry for me… It was Alduin."

She glanced anxiously up at him from her place at his side where she was still healing over the large chunk of flesh before turning back to her work. She started to mend it quicker than his own body could, leaving a scar, but at the very least sealing that awful hole in his body.

He continued and said, "He betrayed us. _All of us_. He'd heard our whispers and knew we doubted his position over us and… he also knew I was helping you little one…"

She noticed his eye swivel back over to his brothers, the other dragons who were all finding their own places to settle and rest in the shelter of the cave. Only one of them looked on angrily at him, Rona was sure of it.

Krozeim cut a sneer at Odahviing and found a hollow further from the rest, then hunkered down behind an old magma wall and buried his head under his wing. Rektuhah came up to them and spoke low and with wisdom, "[You cannot blame yourself brother. Alduin has become suspicious and unpredictable. He has long since been planning our demise as well as that of mortal-kind. It is in his nature as our father Bormahu created him.]"

The bronze beast plopped down near them and gave a deep sigh then looked at Rona who was deeply focused as she worked her way around the other side of Odahviing having healed the worst of his wounds. "[Dragonborn]," Rektuhah said kindly, "[Once you have healed him as well as yourself, should you have any magicka left, I hope you might be able to tend to the worst of us. But rest first, of course, if you must. I believe we will survive the night.]"

She looked up at him and gave a weak smile saying, "Of course. I'll do what I can."

Odahviing was still looking on at the others when he said, "[I count six… who is missing?]"

There was a heavy pause as Rona stopped what she was doing and looked sadly at the ground. Rektuhah was facing away from his brother, his eyes drooping with exhaustion when he finally replied, "[We lost Mulsotek to Nosvaat today. He gave his life to protect the Dragonborn.]"

Rona's lip quivered and she felt her tears streaming then. Amidst these incredible creatures she could sense their anguish and sorrow over the loss of their brother. It was almost strange to her, for there were very few times when she'd met dragons who worked together and even then it was because they'd been close siblings or working on orders from Alduin himself.

But something had happened among these ones. Something that brought them all together and forced them to set their differences aside. And that something was Alduin, the World Eater. Not only was he threatening to destroy the world of mortals, but he intended to destroy their world too. And so they'd joined together and sought her out, knowing she was the only one who could stop it all and risked their lives and lost a brother just to safeguard her. She didn't feel worthy of their kindness. She felt like an outsider among them and yet they welcomed her all the same.

Odahviing especially seemed concerned for her as he pressed his muzzle to her cheek. It broke her from her reverie and she looked up at him, tears still streaming. She was sure he was smiling when he said, "Rest Dragonborn. I am feeling well now so I shall light a fire. Heal your wounds and sleep. I will not allow the guilt of my actions to bear on my heart and neither should you. So rest young one. Tomorrow we go to the Throat of the World to meet with Paarthurnax. He will know what to do…"

She sniffled and wiped her tears away with the palms of her hands, gathered some brush and did just that. There was a great deal troubling her and her mind kept wandering to Bishop who looked so broken when she left him. She pushed him far from her mind and focused on what she needed to do, thinking again of the Dwemer ruin buried in her mind somewhere, searching for the answer on those strange glowing walls where the Snow-Elves worked tirelessly for their cruel masters.


	19. Chapter 19 A Clan Reunited

**Chapter 19**

 **A Clan Reunited**

Aela shifted her legs uncomfortably as Bishop stared hard at her, waiting for her to reveal the nitty-gritty truth about this malicious group of werewolves out by Falkreath.

But her eyes kept wandering over to Nelkir who was also curiously listening, wanting to hear more.

Finally, Bishop said, "Wait outside kid."

Nelkir scoffed loudly and said, "But it's still raining out!"

"Don't care, git," Bishop commanded again.

"Oh, come on!"

"Out. _Now_ ," Bishop said in a very no-nonsense tone of voice.

Nelkirknew not to argue at that point, but made his annoyance known when he kicked at a piece of waterlogged wood debris on the floor and grumbled, "I never get to know _anything!_ I _hate_ being a kid!" before disappearing outside.

Bishop figured he'd no doubt still be listening nearby but pressed Aela to reveal her secrets now that he'd left, "Tell me about them, the dog… hounds or whatever."

"Dredge Hounds," Aela corrected him then crossed her arms over and turned her head away pursing her lips, "It was a stupid name really. I didn't learn until later that it was part of an ode to Sithis."

"Dark Brotherhood, huh? So, I take it a Nord named Arnbjorn was involved?"

She looked at him then and her mouth dropped, "How do you know...?" Then it dawned on her, " _Kodlak._ He told you what happened to his son, didn't he?"

"He told me that he got involved with a bad guy named Arnbjorn and that he was killed because of all that. But I only heard his name again recently, at the Temple of Kynareth when we went to have Rona's broken hand healed," then _he_ was the one hesitating as Aela started scrutinizing him closer. He fessed up though, "She's one of them now. She's been marked."

"No," Aelaknit her brows together.

"What's worse is she's this thing called the Listener," he explained.

But Aela already knew what he meant it seemed when she shook her head and muttered, "Gods… how could this have happened?" Then she gasped and turned back stammering, "She's not a werewolf though – is she!?"

"No. Just Dark Brotherhood."

"Oh thank the gods," Aela breathed with relief, "Arnbjorn is an absolute monster of a man. I can't imagine she'd tolerate him for very long, but if she's marked now… she can't kill any of them."

"Or the Black Hand will kill her, yeah I know. She told me everything."

"But you didn't know Arnbjorn was Dark Brotherhood. What did Kodlak tell you?"

Bishop sighed and grabbed one of the nearby seats, sat down, put both hands to his knees and laid it out for her as briefly as he could. He told her that he knew Brandr set Kodlak up and betrayed his father with the intent to kill him _and_ the Sybill of Dibella as a means of tearing apart his father's honored reputation after his death.

Aela nodded and said, "But do you know why he really planned to kill the girl?"

Bishop stared at her for a moment before he blinked and realized, "To take an innocent life."

"Exactly," Aela said, "To be a part of Arnbjorn's pack you had to be willing to sacrifice your very humanity to do so and that meant murdering an innocent. Arnbjorn suggested it to Brandrwhen it all came about. Told him he should kill his father too. That it would be two birds with one stone and finally Brandr would be one of the pack."

Bishop wasn't liking this one bit. The idea that he'd have to murder some innocent kid just to become a werewolf didn't sit well with him at all. Maybe he could get one of them to bite him, although that would be extremely risky in itself. Then he got to thinking and looked back up at Aela and asked, "You were a part of this group? You… did you?"

Aela's arms were still firmly crossed over and she lowered her eyes, looking morose and gave a single nod before explaining herself, "Mine was an old woman. She was heading home late one night after visiting with her family. I'd stalked her for weeks, watching her every move. I knew where she'd be and on the night of a full moon, I turned and just… I let the blood take me. I barely remember it."

"Skjor too?"

"His was some teenage boy. He didn't feel good about it at all, but I was the one who convinced him to do it, told him it'd be worth it in the end because then we could be free to be what we really were and be a part of a real pack," at that point she started talking, just letting all of it go and go and go. Bishop could hear the regret etched in every word, almost like she was confessing her sins to a priest of Mara, "But it _never_ sat right with him and things only got worse. Arnbjorn is a purely evil man and a murderer. He goes against everything Hircine stands for. In fact, he actively tries to insult the Daedric Prince in his worship of Sithis. We didn't find that out until it was all too late. When Brandr tried to kill Kodlak we confronted Anrbjorn about it, demanded to know what he was plotting and told him his actions got the boy killed. That's when he revealed the truth to us, that we were just his puppets for the Dark Brotherhood. He used us to help him hunt and kill his marks, or even just to kill out of the enjoyment of it. Of course, after telling us all this, he didn't intend to let us go either. Skjor fought like a madman and I did everything I could to keep the rest of the pack at bay. He lost his eye that day and I don't think he ever forgave me for it."

"So the only way to become one of them is to kill some innocent civilian then?" Bishop asked her pointedly.

She scowled at him, "Wait… you're not seriously thinking of gaining the beast blood that way, are you!?"

"No," Bishop said shaking his head and standing from his seat, "I'll just lie and say I will. All I really need is to get bit again."

"But if you gain the Blood again there's no turning back," Aela argued, "You'll be one of Hircine's forever. Sovngarde is off the table. I know you love her, but would you really risk giving up eternity with her for a chance to spend whatever life you have left with her?"

"If I don't do something to help her there won't be an eternity of _anything_ left!"

"There is another way," Olava finally spoke up from her spot at the table.

Bishop turned to look at her and ask how when she thumbed back to Wyllin who was still standing by, patiently waiting for their little meeting to conclude. "That one will show you the way. She's here on Hircine's behalf. She's here for _you_."

"She can turn me?"

"No, she's a ghost, don't be stupid boy."

Bishop scowled at the old woman and made to insult her back when she too stood up and quickly said, "There isn't much time. The old Harbinger will guide you on your way. Hunt the white stag in the forests of Falkreathand Hircine will appear before you. But you must make haste if you wish to save the life that hangs in the balance."

"Life? Who's life?"

"You will know when you are meant to save him," Olava said with a smirk and then she started pushing on his back, ushering him out the door, "And remember this, the next full moon is in two days time. What you have seen has not yet come to pass."

Wyllin was on the move again, with Karnwyr loping right alongside her. Bishop decided to heed the old woman's words and followed. Nelkir ran over from his spot near an open window and immediately paced alongside him clamoring, "Wait! I want to go with you!"

Bishop opened his mouth to protest when Olava called out, "I have an important task for you young man! As well as the rest of your Companions Guild." She eyed Aela up and down and Aela frowned at the old woman and took a single uneasy step away from her.

"You should do what she says Nelkir," Bishop encouraged him, "I'll catch up with you all in a month or two, alright?" He looked back to Aela and waved at her, giving his farewell, "Eyes on the prey."

"Not on the horizon," she called back, "Good luck Shield-Brother. Bring her back to us."

Bishop gave a firm nod and left through the two wide-open gates of Whiterun breaking into a sprint to catch up to his wolf and the ghostly Bosmer leading the way.

The entire city had been mostly vacated after the dragon attack and despite the heavy rainfall parts of it were still burning. Aela sighed looking around at the sad state of their city. Nelkir approached her, sulking and said, "Guess we're going to get stuck cleaning all this up, huh?"

Aela ran a hand through his wet hair, stroking the side of his head and said, "Most likely whelp."

"Whiterun's spirits are low," Olava affirmed as she carefully knelt by her tea-leaf willows and started to fuss with them, casting magic over them to heal the burnt bits, "You will have to work very hard to restore your home to what it once was, to bring back its beauty and stateliness and to make it feel safe for its citizens. I suggest you start with the Gildergreen."

"It's gone," Aela stated, "It burned down, fell over and smashed to pieces."

"Yes," Olava nodded, "Much like your own home has. But that does not mean all hope is lost. Go to Danica Pure-Spring. She will know how to bring it back. Restore the heart of Whiterun and the people will return... as will the Dragonborn. That is what I see in your future."

Aela shot an unsure glance at Olava before grasping Nelkir's shoulder to guide him along the path, "Come on whelp. Let's go check on the others."

As the two of them left a tall Altmer stepped out of the darkened doorway of the old woman's home and spoke softly, "Why do you help them?"

She smirked as she continued tending to her plants, "It is all part of the plan. The way of the Void… I am merely pushing them down the right path."

"Should I follow him, then? Should I end it on the road?"

Olava looked back at him and said, "Should Ocheeva have ended your life when you needed help most? After all, you were meant for Sithis too… but instead, she renounced her contract, nearly dying as a result and took you in… _you_ who became an invaluable member of the Brotherhood."

"So you're saying I should recruit him?"

Olava scoffed, " _Him?_ Oh by Sithis, no… but you will know when to act when the time comes," she studied him for a moment, frowning slightly, before turning back to healing her plants, "The future is murky and I fear for you, Niven. Take care not to allow your emotions to consume you, for that will be your downfall."

He narrowed his eyes at her back, "Emotions? I cast those into the fires of Valenwood long ago."

Olava gave a light laugh, "Hah, one can bury their feelings, certainly, but one can never truly rid themselves of all emotion. Often it takes but one single person to draw them out again," she paused for a moment as she finished tidying up her willows then gingerly pushed herself off the ground and stood on shaky legs. Niven grasped her by the arm to steady her. She gripped his arm and looked up into his dark blue eyes and spoke seriously, "Take care not to grow too close to her for she might just reignite that flame inside you."

(Loop Background Music _Untold_ by Two Steps From Hell)

Rona stared long and hard at the great wall before her. It was a mural of sorts that resembled Alduin's Wall, only it was lit up with bright yellow and blue glyphs; Dwemeris. It was a language oddly familiar yet incredibly foreign to her. It resembled Aldmeris in many ways but the sentence structure was reversed in places and it seemed to be lacking vowels and adding in entirely new letters she couldn't even fathom trying to pronounce.

When her mind refused to make sense of the words she instead started studying the images, trying to decipher their meaning. In the center was a woman standing at the Throat of the World, surrounded by dragons. But on either side of this great image were two other strange scenes. On the left was what appeared to be Alduin resurrecting his dead brethren, and on the right was a woman summoning a dragon in a similar way. Rona stared hard at the image of the woman and noticed her features were remarkably similar to the First Maiden…

"Eira," a masculine voice whispered her name.

She turned to see a Dwemer man standing beside her. He was a studious looking fellow with pale blue skin and a thick black beard which was tied into neat braids with gold bands binding the ends. He wore a faded purple tunic with straight gold trim on the hem and sleeves and leather sandals on his feet. He was sporting a fancy pair of round spectacles at the end of his long, bulbous nose and had a rounded pale purple cap fitted to the top of his head. He was holding a very large book in hand and reached out to touch the figure on the wall.

When he spoke again she was stunned to hear that she understood him, although his version of Aldmeris was extremely old-fashioned to her ears.

"(To think the Maiden hadst the power to bind their souls and raiseth them from death. Mayhap the secret lay within her tome?)"

He clutched harder at the enormous book in his arms and Rona recognized it immediately as she spotted the flakey gold lettering on the front which spelled out the words, _Faal Vahdin do Dovah Yolos,_ or The Maiden of Dragon Flame, in Dovahzuul. It was _her_ book. The one Esbern gave to her over half a year ago.

In that moment another more bedraggled Dwemer man approached and started speaking to his colleague in Dwemeris which she could not understand in the slightest. The two spoke quickly, back and forth and it started to get heated between them, with the studious one finally snapping at his fellow and shouting loudly. They seemed to come to an understanding, however, as the studious one quickly calmed himself, nodding his head to the other and gave a brief farewell before turning away to venture somewhere else.

Rona felt compelled to follow him and hurried along after the man. She knew the world she was in was merely a dream and so she worked hard to focus on what she needed to find to keep it going for as long as possible. They weaved their way through several rooms and further down the winding tunnels. Rona caught glimpses of the outside landscape which was a strange, dark place filled with wild glowing fauna and flora of all kinds. Most notable were the towering mushroom stalks that seemed to reach all the way up to the stalactites in the never-ending chasms of the ceiling.

Soon, though, they got to a point where there were no windows to view the outside landscape and they finally came to a stop at a mechanical lift. Rona stepped into the small space and stood alongside the Dwemer man. He seemed somewhat agitated and was deep in thought. She wondered where exactly they were headed. He pulled the lever and the lift shook and down they went, plummeting into the darkest depths of that cold, dark place.

She would have been more claustrophobic over it if she didn't know it was a dream. Memories of her first, horrible dive into a Dwemer ruin with her mother filled her mind until the lift came to a shuddering halt and the metal gates opened. The Dwemer man stepped out and Rona proceeded to follow him. She was horrified to see the snow-elves deep down inside that place, working tirelessly over what appeared to be magma filled forges. She was more alarmed to see that it was the beginning of their peculiar change from Snow-Elves to Falmer. Most had cataracts in their eyes and they were extremely thin and lacking hair on their heads from malnourishment.

The studious man by her side seemed to be making a keen effort not to look at them and whenever he did catch a glimpse of them his face curved into a grimace. There were other Dwemer down there too, most of them were busy inspecting the quality of the gold and brass materials the Snow-Elves were producing and whipping or beating them when they failed to match up to their expectations or simply struggled to stay standing under the grueling conditions.

As they walked along, the sounds of a Dwemer overseer brutally whipping one of the Snow-Elves caught their ears. Rona immediately grit her teeth and turned away from the sight and noticed her current company do the same. He flinched each time the sound of a sharp snap and a pained yowl echoed through the tunnels.

The Dwemer man carried on though, ignoring all of the depravity around them until they came up to an enormous pair of metal doors. They were large enough to fit a dragon through and required a meticulous mechanism on both sides just to open. At the moment they appeared to be locked up tight, with five thick, metal bars spanning across the middle and latching tightly into place.

The studious Dwemer fellow looked up at the two sentries on cliff edges, lined with brass railing on either side of the door and then he glanced to a pedestal sitting nearby with a very unusual looking helmet seated on it. The thing had an entire face mask with slots in the front and the top portion resembled half a bowl with a vivid pink diamond quartz centered in it. He stuck the large book under his arm and put the helmet onto his head.

When he looked back up at the other two sentries, Rona saw they were now wearing the same helmets and although everyone present was totally silent, she noticed the Dwemer man and the two sentries bobbing their heads back and forth, almost as though they were having a conversation. The gems on the heads of the helms lit up back and forth giving further indication that _that_ was exactly what was happening. It was very strange to her and reminded her too much of the time Mrs. Gilseene had a one-sided conversation with the Night Mother.

In less than a minute, this strange moment seemed to end and the Dwemer man pulled the helmet off and placed it back on its pedestal, all while muttering in old-fashioned Aldmeris, "(Blasted miters… must they always smell of fusty, damp rags?)"

As he was grumbling away the sentries up on either side of the doors started to turn two large wheels, making the enormous bronze doors squeal and creek as they began to open. They did not open them all the way though, only partway enough to allow the Dwemer man through. He hurried along shimmying between the partially cracked doors and grumbling some more. Rona continued to follow him in and stopped suddenly at the strange scene that lay before her. The room was filled with faint glowing blue lights and all sorts of machinery most of which had some sort of bubbling, clear-blue substance in them. All around them were Dwemer folk busy at work operating the machinery.

In the center of this peculiar room though was a large dome container filled with the same blue liquid pumping in and out of the tubes throughout the room. And to Rona's shock and alarm there was a woman inside; a Snow-Elf who just floating there, naked and in the fetal position. She was strikingly beautiful, though frail and with skin so pale it was nearly translucent, her hair was long and curling through the liquid. It was a soft, pale strawberry shade a little lighter than her own rosy locks.

Despite floating inside a dome full of liquid the woman didn't look dead, only as though she were sleeping. The Dwemer man stepped aside and spoke to one of his fellows, who was busy monitoring a set of gauges and valves on a panel he stood in front of. The studious man tapped him on the shoulder and began speaking in Dwemeris to him. The one monitoring the gauges nodded his head affirmatively to whatever the studious one said and grasped a large lever, pulling it. All of a sudden the tubes in the room began pumping and draining themselves of the strange blue substance inside of them.

Then the dome in the center began to drain and the woman within slowly floated to the bottom of the container until she was just laying there with her long hair sticking all along her body, down to her bottom. A pair of Dwemer men quickly opened the round door to the container and stepped inside. They gagged, bound and lifted the woman to her feet as she groggily started to come to. When she opened her eyes though, Rona noticed immediately that they were highly unusual. They didn't look _real_.

Her irises were a mixture of bright and dark blues and her pupils, which should have been black, were a sharp glowing red. Her scleras were a normal white, if not metallic-looking when the light hit them. The woman's strange eyes swiveled wildly around the room and she jerked and twitched in the hands of the two holding her. She looked frightened and confused. But as her gaze landed on the studious Dwemer man standing before her she froze and Rona could see her irises rotating around like a cog wheel and her pupils glowing red in an expanding and retracting fashion. It was almost like she was absorbing the information in front of her in a robotic way.

The Dwemer man took a step toward her and she leaned back as far as she could while being restrained. The studious Dwemer stopped himself and cleared his throat, "(Doth not beest alarmed, Nirafina. We has't restored thy sight. We has't given thee new eyes.)"

She blinked her new eyes several times and looked as though she wanted to cry. Her body went limp like she'd just given up all hope and the only thing keeping her up were the two stone-faced Dwemer men on either side of her.

The studious Dwemer looked at each of them and started speaking to them in old Aldmeris, either not realizing he was doing so, or possibly doing it for her benefit, "(Please… my lady needn't be restrained this way. Nirafina will not harm us, she only wishes to help. Please unbind her.)"

Another Dwemer man stepped forward then. He appeared to be the person in charge of this strange operation. He looked so much like the studious one except that he had a wild untamed black beard and scraggly hair billowing out from under the cap on his head. His clothes were the same too, save for a strange, thick metal gauntlet which wrapped around his right arm and up to his shoulder. He looked sharply at the studious fellow and spoke sternly, "(Leaveth her bound and gagged. Thoust remember what happened the last time we allowed her to be free. No, not again… She will be heard with the miters. Taketh her to the attuning room for another reading.)"

But the studious Dwemer objected to this, "(Mzinch, I beg thee, she hath only freshly becometh accustomed to her new eyes. She needeth more time-)"

"(ENOUGH ALFT! Thither is little time. Taketh the lady to read the scroll. _Now._ )"

The tiny Snow-Elf merely slumped in the arms of the Dwemer men who easily lifted her small, frail body under her arms and carried her along into another nearby room, with her feet dragging on the metal floor behind her.

Alft and Mzinch followed them bickering back and forth, shifting between Dwemeris and Aldmeris the entire way. Rona could only catch pieces of their conversation as a result.

"(Raldbthar hath said the lady needeth more time to heal, to become accustomed to her new eyes)," Alft argued.

"(Raldbthar is a fool. We cannot wait any longer. The war is upon us. Lord Kagrenac needeth know everything. He will beest arriving to heareth our report on the morrow)," Mzinch was firm with his words and although Alft continued to try and argue his case in Dwemeris he was shut down at every turn.

She continued to follow them as they took the young Snow-Elf up a stairwell that surrounded a huge brass sphere with large turquoise circular panels set into the metal. Rona remembered seeing the room if only for a moment in one of her first dreams there. She recalled how she begged and begged the Dwemer to tell her where the scroll was despite the fact that they could not hear her because she wasn't really there. Now, though, she knew that it was buried in the depths of the underground in that terrifying place somewhere beneath one of the Dwemer ruins.

The names of those three were not lost on her either. Raldbthar, Mzinchaleft, and Alftand were the names of several Dwemer ruins out in The Pale, the northern part of Skyrim. She'd always had a feeling that Mzinchaleft had the answers she needed. Now she was almost sure of it. And if not that one, then it was definitely in one of the other two.

Suddenly the two Dwemer carrying the Snow-Elf stopped their march at the top center of the Dwarven sphere and simply held her there. Mzinch raised his metal gloved hand to a group of Dwemer perched along the raised back wall with a set of panels and switches in front of them. They set to work immediately and in seconds the turquoise refractors on the ceiling began to shift and move around, reflecting light against the walls in various places until finally the release clicked into place and the receptacle holding the Elder Scroll came down and opened for them.

Rona hardly noticed or realized that all of the Dwemer, including Mzinch and Alft, had put miter helms on until Mzinch approached the receptacle, carefully drawing the scroll out of its container with his metal gloved hand. She watched closely as he turned around and stood in front of Nirafina. Her head hung low against her naked chest and her breathing was slow and steady. Her hair was mostly dry now and Rona noticed her short bangs barely covering a strange glowing crest on her forehead that was shaped like a diamond.

The pink quartz set into the forehead of the miter on Mzinch's head seemed to react to this as it glowed brightly in return. Mzinch grasped her chin into his ungloved hand and lifted her face to look at him and spoke aloud, "(Thoust wilt readeth the scroll and telleth the way to kill the World Eater. Showeth the way to immortality and to the Godhead! Lord Kagrenac commands it!)"

Nirafina stared hard at the Dwemer before her looking angrier and angrier by the second. Her forehead lit up brighter than ever making the gem on Mzinch's miter react. Rona was sure she was communicating with him somehow, especially when he released her chin and slapped her sharply across the face and snapped at her, "(Filthy whey-skin. How dare thee utter such putrid nonsense! Watch thoust tongue lest we cut it free and burn it with your eyes.)"

"( _Mzinch_ )," Alft stepped forward and spoke firmly, "(Touch the Dragonborn again and I assure thee, Raldbthar wilt heareth of it.)"

Mzinch glanced over at his fellow and seemed to second guess his words, or perhaps they spoke telepathically through the helms which were still flickering back and forth. Alft looked to Nirafina though and spoke to her, softly and gently, "(Please, Nirafina… I beg thee. Time is running short and war is coming. Alduin groweth ever stronger and we needeth some way to stop him. All of Nirn is depending on thee.)"

She looked on resentfully at him as their gems glowed back and forth in conversation and finally he turned his head from her and said, "(Thoust knoweth freedom is not feasible…)"

(The music is _Blackout_ by Two Steps from Hell)

"(Enough of this trivial nonsense)," Mzinch scoffed, holding the scroll up horizontally in front of her, "(READ IT.)"

Nirafina shook her head madly but the second he opened the scroll her mechanical eyes locked onto it and her entire body lurched painfully forward, almost as though she was being sucked into it. Everyone else in the room was looking away from the thing despite wearing the helms on their heads, all of which were lighting up as wildly and brightly as the gem on Nirafina's forehead. Rona almost felt compelled to look at the scroll herself, but even in the dreamscape it was nauseating for her and made her ears ring from the strange sounds it emitted.

She noticed something terrifying happening to Nirafina as well. Parts of her skin slowly started to etch with glowing words straight from Dovahzuul and her face, despite being gagged, was trapped in a permanent scream. Soon the entire room started to shake and shudder with a force that could not be seen, only felt. And Rona not only felt it, but she _heard it._ All of Nirafina's words and shrieks burrowed into her mind almost worse than when she held the newly attuned Lexicon for the first time.

Her soft voice came in quickly, her words rambling as images of the past, future and present infected her mind.

"(I see it, the Red Mountain. He hath found the Heart of Lorkhan in its depths and hath torn it apart, forging his vicious tools. He hast madeth the Numidium, but it will be taken from thee during the great Battle of the Red Mountain. Thoust seek immortality, thoust seek to join the gods, to ascend and become the Godhead itself, but what thoust truly sees is mere fabrication. All 'tis a lie. The Mundus is a dream and the World Eater is meant to wake us from it. None can stop him. Even I, the Dragonborn, _cannot stop him_. Thither only one who can save us from him. But she is far in the future watching us now, searching for a way. You must free me! You must set me free so that she might live! SET ME FREE FROM FAL'ZHARDUM DIN! FROM THE BANES OF YOUR NAMES!"

And then a pair of great dragon wings burst from her shoulder blades as she shouted,

" **VUL THUR YOL!** "

Though she was still gagged, she shouted with the power of her mind a shout which shook the entirety of that place to its very core. The two Dwemer holding Nirafina let her go, falling over while clutching at their helms where their ears would have been. Mzinch did the same, falling backward, still holding the scroll in one hand. Miraculously Alft was able to stay steady and caught Nirafina in his arms. He quickly cut her bindings a pulled the cloth from her mouth with a strange blue glowing dagger and threw his miter helm off.

(What hast thou done?)" He asked her with fear in his eyes.

She smiled at him and said, "(I have called upon my dragon. He awaits me in the depths of Fal'Zhardum Din, I must go to him)," then Nirafina looked right where Rona was standing and spoke directly to her, "(Revive them Dragonborn. Cleanse their souls of Alduin's corruption and revive them. Paarthurnax will guide thee. The rest thoust now know.)" And this time she shouted right at Rona, "YOL TOOR SHUL!" casting her into a fiery inferno which shook her awake.

She took a moment to catch her breath and get a handle on her bearings, feeling the soft, dewy grass under her hands as she looked up at the first morning rays of light shining through fog-covered holes in the open ceiling cave. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her head was throbbing. Those dreams always took the most out of her, because they were too real.

The pain in her head started to fade though when her mind began wandering over everything she'd just witnessed and what Nirafina had said to her. "Fal'Zhardum Din," she whispered. She did not want to forget its name. It was Dwemeris and she knew she could translate it somehow.

"Paaz sul Dovahkiin," Rona tilted her head back and to her left. Rektuhah was still nestled in his place on the grass beside her. She sat up noticing that Odahviing had vanished from his own nest, however.

"He has gone to hunt. He was… how do you say, _kipnu_?"

"Famished?" She guessed.

" _Geh_ ," he rumbled, "Very famished."

"[I can speak Dragon tongue if you prefer]," she said in Dovahzuul.

He slowly shook his head, " _Nid_ … I must practice the tongue of the _joor_ … of the humans. It is important that we _dov_ learn to communicate in your language, or we shall never learn your ways."

Rona gave him a quick once over and saw that he was still horribly wounded in many places. She got up and started to mend him saying, "I'm so sorry this happened to you. I would have healed you last night but I ran out of magicka."

"No apologies are necessary Dovahkiin. We knew the risk we were taking when we set out to find you."

She paused for a moment, still hovering her healing hands up and down a gash in his side and asked, "Why would you risk your lives for me? I thought you all wanted me dead…"

Rektuhah took his time answering that one while she carried on mending him, "We believed that what we did to you was right. It has always been our way to follow the strongest. But you have proved many times over that you are much stronger than he is," he looked down at her as she finished healing the holes in the webbing of his wings, "…even if you do not believe you are."

Rona craned her neck up, meeting his gaze and felt absolutely no malice from him, only warmth, kindness and a deep concern. She made to speak when they heard the low roar of a dragon outside the cave. Odahviing returned, landing softly on the grass just outside the cave before coming in, carrying the bloodied chunk of a portion of mammoth hide in his maw. He walked over to his brethren and placed the food before them, nudging it with his nose, encouraging them to eat. The two Blood dragons were the first to dig into the meal, taking several large chunks out of the hide and then the others stepped forward looking to fill their hungry bellies.

Odahviing looked back at the ridge where Rona and Rektuhah were resting and he flapped his wings a few times, gaining height for a moment before carefully landing by them. He looked over his brother and then turned to Rona, seemingly smiling at her as he said, "It is good to see you are well young one. I apologize for not bringing you any food. You are free to feast on the mammoth, though I am sure you would prefer a pastry. Sadly I have no talent in making such things."

Rona grinned up at him laughing and said, "I suppose I'll have to teach you someday!"

"I would enjoy that very much," he rumbled, lowering his head to her. She could swear he was purring at the very thought of learning how to make all his favorite sweets.

She caressed his snout with one hand, before tearing up a bit and pressing her forehead to his maw and sniffled, "I'm so glad you're alright. I tried to call you for days and days. But when you never came, I just knew something awful had happened to you."

"I know," he rumbled mournfully, "I heard your shouts on several occasions but I could not move. I am grateful to my brothers for finding you… but pained for the loss of one of our own," he looked back out over the mossy cliffs, motioning to the place where Krozeim had been nesting the night before but who was at the moment nowhere to be found, "Our brother mourns for the loss of Mulsotek but he will return soon. We are to leave for the Throat of the World as soon as you are ready, Dovahkiin."

"I should heal the others," she said, although she was feeling like her magic was nearly drained again. She wasn't used to healing such large creatures.

"The others are fine for the time being," Odahviing said, "Their wounds are not as life-threatening as ours were," he added nodding to Rektuhah, "I will admit I am eager to leave soon. There is no knowing if the Revered are nearby, or even Nosvaat for that matter."

"The Revered?" Rona asked curiously.

"They are the colorful, little dovah you faced _usul_ … the day before. We are calling them the Revered, for they mindlessly revere Alduin Thuri. They are not true _dov_ and are incapable of independent thought."

"They're Nords," she said, "They have the souls of the dead Nords from Sovngarde."

"I know," Odahviing said sorrowfully, "Come. We must speak with Paarthurnax."

Odahviing cast off the ground then and flew back down to the others and spoke to them in Dovahzuul. Rona looked on thoughtfully at her old friend and realized just how frightened he really was. She'd never seen him so worried in all the time she'd known him, but now something had changed.

"He is confident that Paarthurnax will have all the _fahraal_ … the answers. But I am not so sure," Rektuhah said, "Odahviing is still rather young for a _dov_. And with youth comes a certain _hinz_ … an ignorance."

"Naivety," she said clarifying for him, "He's not ignorant. Naïve maybe, but I think he might be right. Last night I had a dream about the Elder Scroll and its whereabouts," she glanced up at the bronze beast, "A Dragonborn named Nirafina saw me there. She spoke directly to me and told me where to find it, but she also told me something else…" Rektuhah looked on at her with deep interest and she explained, "She told me to revive them. To cleanse their souls and revive them."

Rektuhah's eyes widened in lieu of this information and he said, "We must leave immediately Dovahkiin." He flapped his wings hard and flew up then downward where the others were each exiting the cave and heading outside where the sunlight was now touching on a fogless landscape.

Odahviing called to her, "[Make haste Dragonborn! We fly shortly!]"

Rona smiled, relishing the thought of flying with them all again, only this time it wouldn't be to escape the shouts and claws of the orange furies. This time it would be different. She hurried down the slope and met them all outside. Krozeim had returned from his travels and was speaking heatedly with Rektuhah, "[The disgusting scavengers... Mange ridden felines. They were busy picking off parts of his bones as though they were trophies to hoard. I managed to chase them off and burned the tails of two of them]," he growled angrily and gnashed his jaws, "[I only _regret_ not snatching their juvenile and tearing it to pieces]."

Rona listened to this horrified and Odahviing shouted, "[Watch yourself, Krozeim. It is not wise to speak ill of the mortals in our present company]."

Krozeim snapped back at Odahviing, "[ _Or what!?_ She will slaughter me and take my soul?]" Then he flashed his furious gaze at her and sneered, "[I dare you to try it mortal. I would easily gouge out your throat.]"

"[ _Krozeim_ ]," Rektuhah's lip curled revealing his pointed teeth and his voice rumbled in a low warning, "[You are pressing your good fortune brother. Threaten her again and it is you who will have your throat in _my_ maw.]"

Krozeim looked around at the entire group of dragons and, suddenly realizing he was outnumbered, gave a disgruntled scoff and slunk his shoulders, turning away from them in a huff.

It seemed that although these dragons had risked their lives to help her, some of them still resented her and saw her as a threat against them. It was clear that for at least some of them, she was their last resort. She only wondered how long it would be before the others voiced their concerns over allying with her and perhaps even turned on her.

She wasn't sure if she could fight against that many huge dragons, not in her current state anyway, with her thu'um weakened as it was and her mental state not being at its peak. But she tried to push the thought from her mind when Odahviing lowered his head to her and said, "Do not concern yourself with our brother. We will not allow any here to harm you. That was our agreement," then he tilted his horn further down and urged her, "Now come. Let us fly together."

(The Music is _Dragon_ by Two Steps from Hell)

Rona nodded her head and confidently reached out, grasping his horn and pulled herself up onto his head. The moment he felt her climb up he raised his head high and looked around at the others shouting, "[Brothers! Today we fly together! Today we become a clan once more! Take to the skies! Feel the wind beneath your wings!]"

Then he roared fire to the clear blue sky and the others did the same, shouting their thu'ums with one another before harshly beating their wings in the air and taking flight. Rona could feel the excitement all around them and couldn't help but smile. In seconds they were off and in the air, with the wind whipping her face and dragons all around her were roaring loudly, sharing in this incredible moment. Despite what happened the day before their collective feelings resonated as optimistic and excited.

It was electrifying to her, so much so that it wasn't long before their current company doubled as the Maidens of yore appeared all around them, riding on the heads and backs of the dragons. Taniil was the first she saw, vocalizing to the skies as she danced upon Rektuhah's head. There were others too that Rona vaguely knew from her dreams and from her battles. She recognized Kitaere seated on the back of one of the Blood dragons in all her Forsworn glory and another, a white-haired Redguard woman, Shexa the Sharp grasping the spines of a Frost dragon while Fralevi the Strong, a blonde Nordic woman leaned on one of its horns.

Most notable, however, was the woman with the wild mane of fiery-red locks billowing in the wind. Eira was riding on the head of an Ancient dragon who flew just ahead of Odahviing. She was staring ever so intently at the mountain peak in the distance for that was where she desired to be most. That was where her beloved roosted in all his millennia on Nirn, eternally waiting for the few glimpses he would have of her when a Maiden of Dragon Flame came calling once every hundred years or so.

It was a strange group that had come together like this, with so many enormous, powerful, beastly dragons and the very Dragonborn who they once opposed. Rona knew she was a part of something great and it made her feel truly blessed for once, even though she knew the feeling would be fleeting, she clung to it and wrapped her heart in it.

Odahviing spoke beneath her and with a grin, he said, "How does it feel young one? To be a part of a clan?"

"Amazing," she said as she looked on in awe at the others around her.

"This is our way… our _true_ way. How we were meant to be before Alduin…," he paused for a minute and nearly mumbled the rest in Dovahzuul, "[Paarthurnax will change their minds on the matter. He must if we are to survive this.]"

Rona wondered what exactly he was talking about but held her tongue. She wanted to enjoy the moment for what it was and when she was in the air flying it was the greatest feeling to her. This was her freedom from everything else. She only wished that she too could fly with them and then she remembered Nirafina and the wings that had burst from her back and she wondered…

Soon the group rose to great altitudes and before long they were circling the Throat of the World and roaring their greetings to Paarthurnax below. The old grey dragon was perched upon the word wall, with his head cocked to the side as he watched them all, eyeing them suspiciously but not making a move against them. Rona was sure he'd heard her music and Taniil singing to the skies, so he knew she was with them.

The entire group of dragons slowly descended one by one, finding places to perch upon the mountain and around the snowy plateau near the Word Wall. Odahviing and Rektuhah both came to a soft landing right by Paarthurnax and Odahviing lowered his head, allowing Rona to slip down his neck. She approached Paarthurnax smiling brightly up at him, calling, "Paarthurnax!"

His jowls rose on either side, grinning as he greeted her and then his brothers, "Paaz sul, Dovahkiin. Drem yol lok dii Zeymah."

"Drem yol lok, Paarthurnax Thuri," Odahviing and Rektuhah said simultaneously.

The old beast turned his attentions back to her and said, "I am pleased to see you are well Lady Rona. I must admit I was concerned for your well being after our last meeting. But ah… I see you have been staying _drenaal_ … you have been keeping busy."

"[Lord Paarthurnax]," Odahviing said, "[There is much to discuss. It concerns Lord Alduin and the Dragonborn.]"

Paarthurnax turned his head to his junior, slowly nodding and said, "[I sensed as much. Please. Tell me everything.]"

A young female Altmer approached the gates to the College of Winterhold. She'd been busy reading up on the properties of shock magic when used in conjunction with alchemy when her signal marker went off, indicating that someone was attempting to enter. Without prior notice of new applicants and the fact that they were on their winter break, it was odd for anyone to try and enter the College at all. She strongly suspected it might have been one of the locals there to complain about some of the loud explosions from earlier when J'zargo had so stupidly been testing his flame cloak scrolls up on one of the towers and summoning the undead in swarms to do so.

Fortunately, Master Thoraminh responded quickly and put a stop to his antics immediately. Faralda, however, was not looking forward to even attempting to appease any angry townsfolk. She was especially disinclined to do so since her skills with Restoration and therefore her pacify spell, was mediocre at best. Still, she took her job as the College's gatekeeper seriously and she would do her best so as not to bother or disappoint the Arch-Mage.

It was difficult to see through the blizzard that was raging outside, but she did notice someone dressed head to toe in thin robes with their arms crossed over, standing at the gates and shivering in the snow. She immediately called out to them saying, "Turn back now citizen! It is dangerous within these walls and you will not gain entry!"

The person merely shook their head, or perhaps they gave a stark shiver, it was hard to tell, so she continued her march through the snow and said, "If this is about the explosions from earlier, I assure you that they have been taken care of. I will let the Arch-Mage know of your concerns and your visit."

"Yes, that is who this one needs to see," a thick Khajiiti accent caught her ears. She finally reached the gates and peered through them, only to be met with not one of the locals but a black striped Khajiit man in temples robes. He was clutching his shoulders tightly and looked absolutely miserable. She noticed that he had a piece of parchment crunched in one hand and he mumbled through chattering teeth, "M'aiq is here to deliver a letter to the Altmer called Serlas."

Faralda looked him up and down then reached a hand out and said, "I'll be sure he gets it."

M'aiq took a step back, shifting away from her despite the enormous gate separating them, "M'aiq has traveled all the way from the Dawn of Stars to the Forests of Falk searching for the Altmer called Serlas. When he was nowhere to be found on his farm, the Mage called Illia sent M'aiq back here again. This one is tired and hoping for a warm bed from his travels."

Faralda narrowed her eyes at him, "I cannot let anyone in who's neither a student, a scholar, nor a professor. I will gladly compensate you for your delivery so you may rent a room at the inn, but under no circumstances can I allow you onto the grounds."

M'aiq's ears lowered and he hissed angrily, "M'aiq promised the one who calls herself Jill that it would arrive in safe hands and he is not about to cross her. This one will deliver it himself."

"Jill?" Faralda asked, raising a brow, "Who is Jill?"

"The Dragonborn," he replied tersely as he casually swiped at a small pile of snow forming on his shoulder.

Faralda threw a hand to her chest and burst into a haughty laughter and spat out, "The Dragonborn's name isn't Jill! What sort of preposterous nonsense is this? And for your information," she added, lowering her voice, "The Dragonborn is _dead_. Everyone knows that." Faralda had learned to be careful where she stated that fact. Any time one of the staff or students mentioned it around the Arch-Mage he would go stone cold quiet and quickly excuse himself from the room. It was clearly still very upsetting for him.

M'aiq growled at her, "M'aiq knows that the one who calls herself Jill is not truly called Jill but M'aiq did not want to lose his head when the Dragonborn threatened him for not calling her Jill. Oh and the Dragonborn is very much alive. This one saw her when she killed the snow-bear and heard her voice. It was very loud."

Faralda bit her lip, trying to hold back her laughter. She absolutely could not believe the ludicrous drivel this cat was spewing and speculated his note was nothing more than blithering nonsense since he was so obviously mad.

She made to speak again when the gates suddenly opened up. She and M'aiq both looked up at them, totally surprised by this sudden change of events. Then they heard the shouting of two students out on the bridge and turned towards them.

"Faralda! Faralda!" Brelyna cried with Onmund following close at her heels. She too was holding a piece of parchment in hand, although hers was much larger than M'aiq's and appeared to be a leaflet of some kind. "We have to get this to Arch-Mage Thoraminh right away!"

The two students ran right up to her holding the leaflet out and Faralda snatched it from Brelyna snapping, "What's all this then?"

"It's about," Brelyna clutched her knees, trying to catch her breath, "It's about – Master Thoraminh's daughter."

"What about her?" Faralda demanded, getting irritable.

" _She's alive!"_

Faralda looked at her utterly stunned. She'd heard the Arch-Mage insist that his daughter was in fact still alive, but most people hadn't really believed it, including her. She started to scan the leaflet and muttered, "What do you _mean_ she's alive?"

"She was seen out in Whiterun… and _heard_ ," Onmund gasped, also catching his breath.

"There are thousands of dragons out there too and huge portals to Sovngarde that opened up all around the city!" Brelyna declared with a tremble of fear and awe.

Faralda looked between the three of them, her two students and the strange Khajiit man holding the supposed letter from the Dragonborn. She glanced back down at the leaflet and read the headline, **THE DRAGONBORN LIVES**.

Her pulse quickened and she said severely, "All of you, come with me _right now_."

She turned and headed towards the great hall before looking back at M'aiq who was still standing there, shivering in the cold and looking around at all the floating lights with mild curiosity.

" _Well!?_ "

"Hm?" He perked up, meeting her sharp gaze.

"You too! You have a letter to deliver don't you!?"

M'aiq grinned at her and quickly followed, matching her footsteps in the snow. He started bargaining and rambling, "M'aiq would be very pleased to be compensated with a warm bed and a belly full of food for his troubles. Perhaps he can share with you his knowledge in exchange. After all, M'aiq knows many things."


	20. Chapter 20 A Long Awaited Letter

**Chapter 20**

 **A Long Awaited Letter**

Serlas was sitting in his private office at his oak writing desk reviewing a large stack of paperwork. The office had once been the original Arch-Mage's living quarters, but since he already had his own private living quarters in one of the towers, he'd decided to convert the entirety of the room into an enormous office space, alchemy laboratory, and library.

There was a small flourishing garden with a variety of alchemical ingredients growing in the center of the room and he'd added at least three new alchemy tables for mixing potions. His area of focus had been attempting to perfect Qetesh's incredible healing and stamina elixir and trying to find a way to make it heal magicka as well. Every alchemy table was covered in ingredients and bottles, and the shelves were full of his potions, some already tested and failed while others were left to ferment.

The walls had been heavily lined with bookcases and filled with a plethora of tomes, manuscripts, almanacs and encyclopedias that he'd mailed for from the Imperial Library. Most of them contained research into Skyrim's province as well as the history of the Dwarves and everything he could get his hands on when it came to the Elder Scrolls, the Dwemer Ruins, and the dragons.

When he was not trying to perfect Qetesh's Best he was otherwise absorbed in book after book trying to learn everything he possibly could about his daughter's tragic destiny. His only regret was that he did not have access to the ancient book Esbern had given her months ago. This did not stop him, however, as he'd read Dragon Language: Myth no More a hundred times over and the back room, which had once been his old friend's sleeping space was now adorned with chalkboards which were filled with the scratchy markings of Dovahzuul. He hadn't had much in the way of practicing speaking it, but he felt he could read and write it well enough and found it incredibly useful for deciphering transcriptions of Skyrim's Word Walls.

His entire study was a sprawling mess of papers, books, quills, inkpots, and empty bottles of Cyrodilic Brandy. The parchment papers rolled, unrolled and crumpled were absolutely covered on all sides in the nonsensical gibberish of his own mind. Some of it was in Cyrodilic and other parts were in Aldmeris and a fair chunk was even in Dovahzuul. All of it was his way of trying to piece together the connections between the ruins and the whereabouts of the Elder Scroll of Dragon.

Anyone from the outside looking in at this spectacle of disarray or who even took one look at him would think he was an absolute madman. Serlas was a mess. His hair had become a dried out skeever's nest which stuck out in places, he was looking thinner and paler than usual and he had heavy bags under his eyes, both from a lack of sleep and the poor drinking habits he'd picked up. He'd started self-medicating as a way to cope with the whispers of the supposed death of his daughter. But he refused to believe it for a second, knowing she was still out there somewhere, chasing her destiny. So he carried on, doing everything he possibly could to help her while he waited for news from Bishop who'd sworn up and down that he would find her.

And oh how he ached to hear that news. Every day his mental state seemed to get just a fraction worse than before, although the awful cold he'd been battling for the last month certainly didn't help either. His nose was stuffy, his head felt like it was full of pressure and his throat was rather sore. There wasn't much the College nurses could do for him though. With his age and his stress levels so high even the most potent potions couldn't stave off the worst symptoms. He gave a raspy cough and snatched up a handkerchief to blow his nose with, doing his best not to soil the paperwork in front of him.

Then he heard a knock on his door and he called out through the cloth with a congested voice, "Come in."

Mirabelle Ervine stepped inside with a platter of tea and a bowl of food hovering beside her, while she clutched a set of books in her arms, "Good afternoon Arch-Mage. I brought you some hot tea with lemon and horker stew, courtesy of Sakesi and Neer-Na."

Serlas wiped at his nose and gave her a weak smile, "Ah thank you, Mirabelle," he waved a hand to one side of his desk magically forcing a pile of crumpled documents to fall into the waste bin at the side, clearing a space, "You may set it there."

She sent the platter forward to land on his desk and glanced at the ground where most of the papers had missed the waste bin and frowned. "Arch-Mage you really must allow the chambermaids to tidy up for you."

Serlas started pouring himself a hot cup of tea when he said, "I'd rather they didn't. I know it looks messy, but I assure you I have a very organized system that I cannot have tampered with in any way, it would set me back on months of work."

Mirabelle stared, scrutinizing him as he took several sips of his tea. He started sniffling again and quickly grabbed his handkerchief and blew his stuffy nose into it. The old rag was well used at that point so he attempted to toss it into the nearby bin and missed it entirely. It landed amongst the endless piles of books and crumpled papers on the floor around his large desk. She scoffed loudly, as she watched the cloth flop down and said sarcastically, "Organized indeed. Amidst all your snotty tissues and this other nonsensical gibberish," she waved a hand over the piles and piles of parchment laying everywhere, "Arch-Mage this is not good, you really must get this room cleaned up for the students you'll be interviewing and, speaking of, have you even started looking over those packets like I asked?"

He didn't seem to hear her as he honed in on his tea and took a deep drink of it before smacking his lips and said, "Aaahh, I do owe Sakesi and Neer-Na my gratitude. This tea is doing wonders for my sore throat."

"Sir," she was practically glaring at him now, holding her books in one arm against her chest while she placed her other hand on her hip.

He shot her a wry smirk and said, "It is Ser-las as I've already told you many times Mirabelle."

She sighed loudly, shaking her head exasperated as she waved a hand over the mess on the floor, lighting up the bits of crumpled trash and tissues with magic and forced them to fly into the wastebasket.

He chuckled and pat a large stack of packets on his desk, "And yes, I have indeed begun looking over the admissions papers, just as you asked," then he took a weary breath, sighing, "I suppose it would be preferable if we actually had some students attending this next semester."

"Yes. It would," she huffed, "With how well we've been doing lately and with the city growing as it has been we've had hundreds of students from all over submitting their transcripts to us." She mindlessly set her books aside on a table and started to tidy up the place with her magic, categorizing a set of almanacs back onto the shelves, setting up right several tipped over potions bottles and stuffing ingredients back into jars. She was careful not to touch his paper piles, oddly sorted as they were on the tables and desks in the room, knowing that it would upset him severely if she moved them.

"It really has helped hasn't it?" Serlas remarked clearing his throat a bit before blowing his nose again, "With Winterhold rebuilt and growing it seems our little College has become a keen point of interest for every mage, scholar and tourist within a hundred-mile radius," then he laughed as he slipped a packet from the top of the stack, looking it over, "Why I even keep coming across old students of mine from the Arcane University looking to transfer here. Heh... Gunther Arrow-Knee. I remember him. Spindly legged fellow, his area of interest; Conjuration. Not one of my better students but my, did he have a wealth of fantastical stories to tell. You know he once told me that his grandfather used to be an adventurer of sorts. That is until he took an arrow to the knee."

Mirabelle paused as she was sliding Dwemer Inquiries Volume III onto a shelf and looked back at him, knitting her brows together, "You're being facetious again, aren't you?"

"Oh no, I'm quite serious," he said deadpan, "It's how they earned the family name. You know how Nords are, mind you, I believe those stories he told were meant to try and distract from his inept magical ability but, regardless, both he and his tall tales were amusing, to say the least."

Serlas grinned at her and Mirabelle gave a dry laugh before turning back to work on tidying up the room. The two of them had grown quite close over the last six months and although she insisted on calling him Arch-Mage or Master Thoraminh, their relationship was one of two old friends. Although they hadn't spoken much before the passing of his closest friend Savos Aren, he had been acquainted with Mirabelle ever since her student years at the College and had seen her rise through the ranks until she was hired on as a Destruction professor and eventually saw her achieve status as a Master Wizard.

The two of them had gotten to know one another much better when she almost died over a year ago, nearly succumbing to her injuries that fateful day when Justiciar Ancano went mad with power and murdered Savos Aren in an effort to take control of the Eye of Magnus.

She'd made the mistake of trying to rescue Savos and was severely wounded in the process. At the time Serlas not only managed to heal her and get her out of harm's way, but he was able to call forth one of his most powerful and dangerous spells in order to stop the Justiciar. Afterward, he helped several members of the Psijic Order take the Eye of Magnus away from there, hoping he'd never see it again.

He'd suffered the loss of many people in his lifetime, but he never expected to lose the man he'd considered his best friend so soon in his life, in fact, he had hoped that for once someone else would outlive him, but it seemed that had not been in the cards for him, at least as far as the gods were concerned.

He could not understand why the divines chose to place him, of all people, so close to so many heroes all his life but felt that surely there must have been a reason for it. He did his best to try and live up to what he could only assume was expected of him, doing everything he could to help them all, from the Nerevarine of Morrowind, to the Hero of the Kvatch and now for his only daughter, the Dragonborn.

Mirabelle, on the other hand, had been checking in with Serlas nearly every day since he'd started working there. She'd been slowly watching him spiral downward in his own grief and doing what she could to keep him on track with his College responsibilities, as well as keeping his mental health from steadily declining as it was. She was skeptical of the idea that the Dragonborn was really alive out there somewhere, but knew it would kill the old elf to ever try and suggest he comes to terms with the truth. So instead she humored him when he carried on and on with his theoretical diatribes about the whereabouts of his daughter and the Elder Scroll.

She really did care for him though and he only continued to garner her respect as the new Arch-Mage after seeing what he'd done for their lonely College. Admissions requests had never been higher and their relations with the local townsfolk had gotten much better since Serlas had personally started investing in rebuilding Winterhold and working to revive it from being just a poor provincial town, and turning it into a busy, sprawling city with proper homesteads and businesses.

The small town of Winterhold truly had become its own incredible cityscape and Serlas had even convinced the Jarl to allow the use of magic to not only build parts of it but to also protect it from the never-ending snowstorm. With the city shielded from the biting cold, more and more people had become interested in living there and with the influx of apprentice mages and scholars the world over coming to see the newly revived city and College, business was booming for them.

The once bigoted Nords, haters of everything magic, began to welcome magic users with open arms and while they were initially concerned about unruly student mages misusing their powers, Serlas assured them he would implement strict rules disallowing the use of malicious or dangerous magic off of campus grounds. He hired several professional Witchhunters to patrol the city and act as the eyes and ears of the College, keeping tabs on students that broke the rules and threatened them with expulsion.

In fact, he'd already had to expel one student who thought he was above the rules. The highly renowned Destruction student Darren had used his ice magic one too many times to make the Frozen Hearth's tavern floors slippery, causing the barmaids to slip and fall, giving him and his fellows a chance to ogle their undergarments and laugh at their expense. What he thought was an amusing prank ultimately caused serious injury to the tavern's bard, breaking her wrist in a bad fall and Serlas was forced to act, expelling him and banning him from the city itself.

But despite these many distractions he made for himself by throwing himself into the community and his work, he had been doing terribly over the last few months. The whisperings from the staff and students about the Dragonborn's death were starting to eat away at his already fragile psyche. He'd held it together for so long by diving into his research to keep his mind busy, but it just wasn't enough so he turned to the brandy, drinking heavily each night to try and forget the fact that his daughter hadn't bothered to write him and hoping against all hope it was because she was fearful that it would be intercepted by the Thalmor or even worse, the Dark Brotherhood.

"So are you going to admit him?"

Serlas snapped out of it mumbling, "Hm?"

Mirabelle was standing by his desk again, reheating his bowl of stew with a spell and repeated herself, "I asked you if you're going to invite him to study here, this Gunther fellow?"

Serlas glanced down at the paperwork for a moment realizing that he'd been mindlessly rereading the same paragraph on the page over and over again for the last five minutes while he got lost in his thoughts.

He cleared his throat, setting the packet aside and said, "Yes I might as well. I always did enjoy his stories."

"But you said he wasn't a very good student," Mirabelle noted.

"Then all the more we can teach him," he replied candidly before muttering, "I can't imagine his being here will make any difference for anyone either way..."

"What was that Arch-Mage?" Mirabelle walked over to him and set the bowl of stew in front of him.

Serlas stared at it and gave a heavy sigh, "I said it doesn't matter. What difference does it make? What difference does any of this make?"

She gave him a concerned look, knitting her brows together and he leaned back in his leather chair, rubbing a hand over his face. Serlas had been more and more short-tempered as of late both due to his drinking and weak health. He was also starting to feel incredibly helpless in regards to his daughter's journey and that was something he wasn't used to. He raised his voice then, and said loudly, "None of it will matter if she can't find the godsdamned Elder Scroll! The World Eater is upon us and the fabric of the world is falling apart as we speak! I could admit every single one of these students or reject them all and none of it would matter!"

"Sir," Mirabelle whispered, putting a hand to his shoulder, to try and calm him.

"NO!" He shouted, smacking her hand away and leaping out of his seat. He rattled his desk, causing the stew to tip over and spill everywhere, staining the documents, "This is useless Mirabelle! All of it! And I'll be damned if I sit here and pretend like I give a skeever's rump about any of this idle busywork! Do you understand? It's pointless rubbish if she can't find the Scroll," he brushed past her and started throwing his hands out every which way, recreating the mess she'd just cleaned up by flinging books from shelves and tossing ingredients all over the alchemy tables with his magic alone, "I told you I have a system, yet you insist on throwing out months of work in favor of cleanliness. Well, cleanliness has no purpose or place in a world that no longer exists!"

"Master Thoraminh, I do apologize, I made sure not to move the important documents. I just thought it might help a bit if...," she mumbled the rest, uselessly trying to defend herself as he knocked over the wastebasket and scattered papers back over every available desk surface.

Then he grabbed one large tome off a side table that had been earmarked in hundreds of places, making it thicker just from the folds alone, but he flipped the book open where a single tasseled bookmark held his place and pressed a finger to the page reading it out loud, "One final imagining before your mind closes from the shock of ever-knowing. You are now a flame burning bright within a vast emptiness. In time you see your brothers and sisters, burnings of their own in the distance and along your side. A sea of pinpoints, a constellation of memories. Each burns bright, then flickers. Then two more take its place but not forever lest the void fills with rancid light that sucks the thought."

"Arch-Mage, I-"

"Don't you see!? It makes perfect sense! Rona has the power of fire, a great wall of golden fire. She is the burning flame in the vast emptiness. She sees her ancestors, the Maidens of Dragon Flame, the Dragonborn of old, burnings of their own in the distance for they too have their own fires. They stand alongside her, guiding her within this sea of pinpoints and constellations of memories and therein lies the answer. But if she does not find the answer then the void will fill it all – don't you see?"

"I... I don't understand," Mirabelle stammered.

Serlas cast the book aside, making it float as he paced across the room and snatched up a piece of charcoal from a cup, "If she does not find the answer then the Void will take us all. The Void of Sithis. It is exactly what the Dread Father wants. For all of humanity to vanish. He is after all the epitome of misanthropy. The Brotherhood has been hunting her down since they discovered that she's their Listener. Even now Sithis hunts for her, seeking to use her and thwart her destiny for his own gain."

"Arch-Mage," Mirabelle said tentatively, "You're exhausted and feverish, please you need to rest. I will look over the admissions papers you needn't concern yourself with it-"

"BUT IT DOES NOT MATTER MIRABELLE!" He roared and started pacing around the room, trying to reorganize his mess but seemingly only making it worse as he went, "I have already told you! All of this is pointless! And I know what you and the rest of them think, don't think I haven't overheard the gossip and rumors. You think she's dead and gone, but I know better," he declared throwing a finger up as he stopped in front of a desk pressed between two bookcases and started poring over a huge map of Skyrim laid out on it.

He started rambling again, "She's so much like my late wife and they're not even related, would you believe it – but I could swear they're identical in their thinking at times. She's gone off and left us, those of us who care most for her, who can actually help her, thinking she must go alone. It's rather shortsighted of her, but she really believes she's doing what's right, but I know... It's one of these three here," he took the charcoal, swiping a circle around three Dwemer ruins on the map.

He jabbed a finger at the center of the three, "Right here underneath them is where it lies: Fal'Zhardum Din. Do you know what that means?" He asked glancing back at her. Mirabelle, however, seemed speechless, mouth agape, as he went on his tirade and he didn't bother waiting for her reply, instead answering immediately, "It is Dwemeris for Blackreach, an ancient and forgotten city of the Dwarves that lies right beneath our very feet. But there is no easy way in. The only way inside is with the Attunement Sphere and do you know where that Sphere is?"

Mirabelle nervously shook her head and Serlas jut a finger towards one of the snow-covered windows of his study and stated, "It is right out there inside a Dwarven lockbox. Or, if Septimus is to be believed, then perhaps the Heart of Lorkhan lies within. Either way, it will lead us to something which can unlock the way and defeat Alduin. But therein lies another problem! It won't open! Septimus said he needed blood from every Mer so I gave him mine and I collected some from the staff and the students. I even crawled into the depths of an old mine and sought out the Falmer to take theirs. But nothing! It still will not open! The next piece to her puzzle is locked in that box and I cannot find any way to open it!"

He raised his voice so much that he started hacking and coughing harshly, throwing a fist to his mouth and grabbing at his chest before he slumped down onto the floor next to a pile of encyclopedias. Mirabelle rushed to his side holding her healing hands out at the ready, "Serlas!"

He continued to cough against his fist and when he pulled it away Mirabelle was extremely alarmed to see blood and insisted, "We need to get you to the infirmary immediately!"

He shook his head and wheezed, "No. It's fine. I'm fine. It's just irritation from coughing so much. It's nothing really..."

"Serlas," she put a hand to his shoulder, looking extremely worried for him. In that moment he started to truly appreciate her companionship more than ever, realizing just how much he put her through, making her worry for his health like he was.

He grasped her hand into his and knit his brows together, saying, "I apologize for my outburst Mirabelle. That was... careless of me... but my mind has been racing so much as of late and..."

"It's alright, I understand," she said as she pressed a hand to his cheek and then his forehead. It felt cool to the touch, which was pleasant but made his fever all too apparent, "We really need to go to the infirmary."

He nodded his head, "I know, I know. I will... just let me catch my breath first," he took a deep raspy breath, trying to calm his nerves and she sat down beside him, still holding his hand firmly in hers, trying to soothe him.

"You really believe she's still out there somewhere?" Mirabelle asked him quietly.

"Of course I do," Serlas said unfaltering, "I'm her father. I have to believe she's still out there."

There was a heavy pause between them before Mirabelle sheepishly asked, "You were married before?"

Serlas looked over at her and said, "I see my fever has been speaking for me."

She smiled at him and he couldn't help but feel an ache in his heart. Maybe all Breton women shared that same smile, he wasn't sure, but he felt he could trust her and so he told her the truth, speaking the words out loud for the first time since he told his daughter about her.

"Her name was Beatrice and like my daughter she was rather bull-headed, set in her ways and ever determined to save the world around her, even if that meant leaving those who cared for her behind."

"Dare I ask what Era you met her in?"

Serlas gave a light laugh and said, "The Third Era of course. We met during the Oblivion Crisis."

"During?" She smirked, "That must have been a very memorable first date."

"Considering we met just outside an Oblivion Gate, I'd say yes, it certainly was."

Mirabelle laughed and shook her head before taking a breath. She gently squeezed his hand and asked, "Were you like this when she left too? The sleepless nights and the drinking?"

He looked downcast and said, "It wasn't this bad. Beatrice was at least kind enough to send me regular correspondence so I knew she was still alive..."

Mirabelle looked up into his face and was sure he was holding back his anguish. She let go of his hand and wrapped an arm around his thin waist, leaning into his side and said, "I promise I won't tell anyone if you cry."

Serlas managed to breathe out a laugh at her remark and made to speak when there was a loud rap on his study door and the voice of their Destruction professor Faralda carried through. She sounded frantic, "Master Thoraminh? Could I have a word? It's urgent, please."

He cleared his throat, though still sounding congested said, "Just a moment."

Serlas pushed himself up and offered a hand to Mirabelle, helping her to her feet. She quickly went about casting spells to once again tidy up the room and Serlas did his best to compose himself, blowing his nose again and waving away the spilled stew on his desk, making it vanish entirely. He stood in front of his desk with his hands clasped together, maintaining some form of professionalism and said, "You may come in."

Faralda immediately entered the room with two students and a Khajiit Serlas did not recognize trailing behind her.

"I apologize for interrupting you Master Arch-Mage but I thought you would want to see this," she said passing him the newsletter, "Brelyna and Onmund brought it up from town."

"Everyone's talking about it!" Brelyna could hardly contain her excitement.

"Professor Tolfdir is already discussing bringing teams out to Whiterun to study them!" Onmund declared.

Serlas looked curiously between them and Mirabelle stood beside him, crossing her arms over and said, "Whatever are you two going on about? To study what?"

"Just!" Faralda shouted crossly over both Brelyna and Onmund, glaring at them both until they closed their yaps, "Just... read it," she breathed, motioning to the newsletter.

Serlas looked down at the headline and the second he read it his knees went weak and he grabbed at a nearby wooden chair, steadying himself as Mirabelle gasped, "Arch-Mage!"

But he waved her off, stating he was alright and quickly started to scan the article.

THE DRAGONBORN LIVES

Hundreds of dragons attacked Whiterun on the 22nd of Evening Star, 4E 202. Reports indicate that the Dragonborn, also known as the Lady Rona Lightfoot, who was once rumored to be deceased, was both seen and heard around Whiterun aiding the Companions Guild in the evacuation of the city. She was last seen riding off on the back of a tame bronze dragon as hundreds of stallion sized orange wyrms chased after her. Citizens speculate that the Dragonborn was intentionally leading the dragons away from the city. Meanwhile, dozens of mysterious portals remain hovering around Whiterun. The dragons were said to have come from them, but upon trying to see within them, there is only fog. Several curious onlookers attempted to enter the strange portals to no avail and merely passed right through them with no harm to their person. Story continued on page 3. Interview with Ahlam Chillfurrow on the tragic death of her husband Nazeem Chillfurrow on page 10...

Serlas immediately looked up at the professor and her two students and asked desperately, "Is this true? Is there more?"

Faralda nodded to Brelyna who'd been biting her tongue, trying not to interrupt. With the go-ahead from her superior, the young Dunmer woman quickly spoke up saying, "They left some things out of the article because of the Stormcloaks. According to my aunt Jenassa who was just outside Whiterun hunting at the time, she saw the little dragons flying around shouting at the soldiers. It sent them all into a frenzy and they all turned on each other. But Ulfric Stormcloak doesn't want the Imperials to know how many troops they lost or that it was his own men killing each other in a blaze of madness, so he made sure it wasn't included in the newsletter."

Serlas took a deep, painful breath through his scratchy throat and clarified, "My daughter. Did they see where she went on this dragon? North, south? East, west? Where did she go?"

Brelyna looked unsure but Onmund said, "People said they saw them flying east or southeast, towards the geyser fields."

"Arch-Mage you're not seriously thinking of going after her in your condition-," Mirabelle immediately began to argue when Faralda spoke up again, "Sir, there's one more thing you should know."

Mirabelle stopped mid-sentence and Faralda nodded her head to the mysterious striped Khajiit man saying, "This courier claims to have a letter for you from someone named Jill."

Serlas furrowed his brows and asked, "Jill? I don't believe I know anyone by that name."

The Khajiit stepped forward, pushing his way between the two students and grumbled, "M'aiq is not a courier, he is but a simple wanderer. Now... are you the one called Serlas?"

"Yes, I am Serlas."

"Good," M'aiq replied with a tone of relief as he fished around his robe sleeves and drew out a slightly crumpled letter, handing it to the old elf.

Serlas took the letter and carefully unfurled it, flattening it as best he could. The first word nearly made his heart stop as it read Ata in his daughter's handwriting. His lip trembled and he immediately started to read over the letter which had been written neatly in Aldmeris.

Ata,

(I trust that this letter reaches you in good health. I can't tell you how many times I sat down to write this to you and threw it away and rewrote it again and again. You must be so disappointed in me. To be honest, I'm disappointed in myself most days. I've had to do a lot of things that I never imagined I would just to survive. I hope you can forgive me for that, or at the very least understand why I had to do it. And I'm deeply sorry that I didn't leave you a letter before I left. I just didn't know what to say and I knew Bishop would share his with you so you wouldn't worry too much. Although knowing you, I'm sure you've worried endlessly.

I want to lie and tell you that things have gone well and that I'm that much closer to finding the scroll, but the truth is... I'm not. Most days I feel completely exhausted and utterly hopeless. There were so many times I truly believed that I was going to die down in one of those awful ruins looking for the damn thing and that wouldn't have been so bad if I knew it wouldn't shatter your heart to pieces. I know I shouldn't tell you this, but I have no one else to talk to about it. I feel so alone and everything seems so bleak.

I'm sure you're thinking, 'then come home daughter'. But I can't. Even now I can sense the dragons nearby searching for me. They'll never give up until the day I'm dead and everyone I love is dead and I made a promise to myself that I would never let that happen to anyone ever again.

I know there's nothing I can say to alieve your fears and worries about my safety but that's not really the point of this letter either. I've just been wanting to write to you. I miss you so, so, so much, Father and I want to see you but I'm afraid to. I'm terrified that you'll be nothing but disappointed in me. I always wanted you to be proud of me and my accomplishments. I always wanted to do good in my life and help others.

It seems ironic then that while I chased the life of a hero I ultimately became one and it is nothing like I imagined it would be. While I believe I'm doing the right thing, it has forced me to do so many awful and questionable things in turn. This is never how I imagined my life would turn out and I have learned that the path of a hero is a truly lonely road.

One thing I can promise you though is that I will not die and I will not give up until all of this is over. I swear to you. I'm still out here searching with everything I have left in me.

I hope that you can forgive me for taking so long to correspond. With the risk of the Empire, the Stormcloaks and especially the Thalmor intercepting my letters I've taken great care not to write to anyone unless I know for certain it will arrive in safe hands.

I will do my best to finish this horrible journey that has been placed on my shoulders. Please try not to worry so much about me and make sure to look after yourself. I never want to be the cause of your heartache, even though I'm sure I already am. I love you so much, Father.

Always thinking of you),

Velvyna*

Serlas finished reading it over, not even realizing that his cheeks and beard were soaked with tears until he choked out his question to the Khajiit who was staring at him awkwardly, clearly feeling uncomfortable in the presence of the tearful elf in front of him.

"When did she give this to you?"

M'aiq raised a paw to his chin and stroked it with a claw as he pursed his lips in thought. "It has been some time. M'aiq first met with the Dragonborn near the Dwarven ruin by the Dawn of Stars. He then traveled to the Forests of Falk to find you but was only met with the housecarl called Ilia. She sent this one back to the north and M'aiq trudged through much snow and avoided many soldiers just to arrive. It has been at least eleven or twelve moons since this one accepted the letter from the one who calls herself Jill. He is very hungry and tired now and wishes to rest."

Serlas wiped at his eyes and nodded saying, "I appreciate the trouble you went through to bring me this. If I may ask you one more question, however, before I compensate you for your troubles..."

"Alright," M'aiq reluctantly agreed.

"How was she? Did she look healthy and well? Or..." he couldn't bring himself to ask the worst.

"The Dragonborn is more powerful than ever. M'aiq heard her loud shouting from over the hills and watched as she slaughtered the snow-bear with her voice and her arrows. He could see that she was wounded, but she used magic to heal herself. M'aiq cannot say if she was healthy. She seemed... tired. Just as tired as M'aiq is now," he added clearly making an effort to end the conversation quickly.

Serlas took a deep breath then let it out slowly and carefully folded the letter, sliding it into one of his robe pockets. He turned to Faralda saying, "Could you please see to it that our friend M'aiq here is treated to anything he would like from the kitchens and that he is given one of the private guest chambers to stay in for the rest of the winter holiday? That is," he glanced at the Khajiit, "if he wishes to accept our hospitality."

A wide grin sprawled across the striped cat's maw and he said, "M'aiq is very satisfied with this arrangement."

"Excellent," Serlas said pressing his hands together, "We look forward to your company then, M'aiq the Wanderer. And perhaps when you are feeling up to it again, you won't mind telling me more of your travels."

"This one would be pleased to share what he knows."

"Good, good. Until the morrow then when we are both well-rested."

Faralda began to usher M'aiq towards the doorway, leading him to the kitchens. They heard him speculating loudly, "M'aiq does enjoy a warm pot pie. Does the school of magic have such things? But made without magic. M'aiq does not like the taste of magic."

Faralda was heard scoffing incredulously at him as the door closed. Serlas then addressed the two students and said, "I appreciate you both bringing me this news as quickly as you did. I cannot thank you enough and I will be covering your tuition for the next year's courses."

Brelyna and Onmund both went wide-eyed and sputtered, "Th-thank you, sir!"

"It is my pleasure. Now, I don't mean to be discourteous, but I have an appointment with our sympathetic nurses in the infirmary and must take my leave of you both."

"Oh yes of course," Onmund said heading towards the door.

"Please feel better Arch-Mage," Brelyna said as she followed him.

"Thank you Brelyna. Take care."

(The Music is Cold by Jorge Mendez)

As the door shut behind them, Serlas heaved a huge sigh and walked back towards his oak writing desk. He pulled up his chair and fell unceremoniously into it. Mirabelle stood by and watched as he took the letter out of his pocket and read through it over and over again, while his expression grew more and more heartbreaking by the second.

It was then that she witnessed this highly intelligent, usually charismatic, kind, old elf, break down as she'd never seen him do before. His chest heaved with several pained gasps and he put a hand to his face and released a never-ending tidal wave of agonizing cries and sobs. She was sure that the letter had confirmed his daughter's death from the way he grieved until she chanced a glance at it as she tried to console him.

Her Aldmeris was rusty, but she understood the gist of it and said quietly, "Arch-Mage, it's alright. She's alive. She's alive."

He lowered his hand from his face and she got a good look at his red-rimmed eyes and his thick brows which knit tightly together, emphasizing the wrinkles on his forehead. His lip trembled as he confessed the saddest thing she'd ever heard, from the depths of his aching heart, "I just want to see her. I want to hold my child in my arms. I want to tell her that I'll make it all okay. I want to tell her how much I love her. She's my little girl, my entire world and I can't even hold her in my arms and comfort her when she's at her worst. I don't understand Mirabelle. Why have the gods forsaken me? Why do they rip every. Single. Person. I have ever loved from me like this? Why do they always die on me?"

Mirabelle was in tears for him as he said all of this and she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. He buried his face into her robes gripping her tightly around the waist and sobbed like a man who'd lost someone dear.

She'd only seen him cry once before, over the body of his best friend as he shook him by the shoulders and desperately pleaded for him to open his eyes. But this was by far much worse. She'd never seen an old man so broken down in her life and she never wanted to see it again.

It took a good twenty to thirty minutes before he calmed down enough to willingly get up and go to the infirmary. There the nurses did their best to treat his persistent cold and gave him a light sedative to help him sleep through the night. Mirabelle walked him to his room later that evening and was almost worried to leave him alone.

As they stood outside his sleeping quarters in the hallway he assured her, "I'm doing much better Mirabelle. I can't thank you enough for being my shoulder to cry on earlier. I have to admit it was somewhat embarrassing for me, falling apart like that..."

Mirabelle smiled up at him and said, "Please don't feel that way Arch-Mage," then she quickly corrected herself, "Serlas, I mean. You'd been holding it all in for so long. But now you know. This is good news, isn't it?"

He shook his head, "I am afraid the news we received today was not so good. While I'm grateful to know she's alive, the attack on Whiterun has me extremely concerned. I would like to send as many teams out to study these so-called portals if we can. But in the meantime, I am going to get a solid rest for the next three days."

"I couldn't agree more," she said.

"If you could see to it that any of my appointments are moved until after the holiday and tell Sakesi and Neer-Na to go ahead and send my meals up through the transfer rune. I am going to stay in bed and rest and would rather not be disturbed by anyone for at least three days."

"Of course, Arch-Mage," Mirabelle said, already falling back into her old habits, "I'll arrange for it immediately. And not to worry, I'll take care of the admissions paperwork as well."

"Thank you, Mirabelle. I can't express just how grateful I am to have you here. You've done so much for me and it has been such a pleasure to work with you."

She smiled warmly at him. "The pleasure has been all mine and it has been an honor to work at your side Master Thoraminh. Please get as much rest as needed and do not hesitate to call for me should you need anything at all."

"I will," he said turning towards his door and opening it.

Mirabelle turned back and asked him, "Serlas," he looked at her, "why did the letter come to you from a Jill?"

Serlas looked downcast, "Jillian of Heart Frost. She's using it as an alias... my smart girl."

"Ah... that would make sense."

"Indeed, one cannot be too careful in these trying times."

"One more thing, if I may," Mirabelle said. Serlas waited for her reply and she whispered, "I'm so sorry I ever doubted you. This whole time she's been alive and here I was thinking you should have grieved and moved on already... that was wrong of me. I hope you can forgive me."

He smiled kindly at her and said, "No need for forgiveness Mirabelle, as I never held it against you. Even I had my doubts on the worst of days, but now my heart is filled once again and my hope is reignited. Rona is alive and I will do all I possibly can to help her."

Mirabelle nodded her head and said, "Goodnight Arch... Serlas."

Serlas said, "Goodnight Mirabelle," and she left, departing down the stairs of the tower.

Serlas stepped inside his living quarters and looked around the charming room thinking for a moment about his daughter and her fiancé when they'd last visited. Even then things had been difficult for her and his visits to Septimus' outpost had been fruitless.

He slowly approached the enormous round window overlooking the ocean and watched as the snowstorm continued blowing wildly outside. He spotted the tiny iceberg in the distance where the Dwarven lockbox lay. He knew that inside that lockbox was the final key to their puzzle and he was more determined than ever to get it open, even if he had to force his way within.

He held his hands up as they crackled electrically. Shock had always been his greatest talent when it came to Destruction magic and long ago he had been given a great gift. One that had changed the very course of history. He knew he had to try something and with that final decision, he quickly ran about the room collecting his warmest robes and cloak, gathering a slew of potions he'd made that were on par with Qetesh's Best and selected his most powerful staff from a rack on the wall. One that sat right next to the mysterious staff that Sanguine had gifted his daughter ages ago.

He ignored the Sanguine Rose, however, in favor of one that enhanced his shock magic by a hundredfold. With all of the necessary equipment in hand, he swept out of his room, locking the door behind him. He cloaked himself in invisibility before making his way down the stairs and set out for the outpost across the sea.

He would open that Dwemer lockbox even if it killed him.

*Velvyna - Your daughter


	21. Chapter 21 Ill Met By Moonlight

**Chapter 21**

 **Ill Met by Moonlight**

Bishop was walking along the path coming from Helgen and heading toward Falkreath. He was extremely irritated because his one day trip had turned into two when he'd been stopped at a Stormcloak checkpoint going west from Whiterun. He'd lost track of both the ghostly Harbinger he'd been following as well as his wolf and was forced to take the long way around through Riverwood and then Helgen because the Stormcloak idiots refused to allow anyone to pass through.

It seemed that despite Ulfric's great losses inWhiterunhe was still pushing for Markarth and regrouping by pulling troops stationed with his scouting regiments and the holds he'd claimed in the northern and southern parts of Skyrim. From what Bishop understood, after catching an earful of one of Ulfric'soverdramatic and loudmouthed speeches, they'd been set back another month or so, and he encouraged his men to rebuild their morale while they took time to grieve over the loss of their brothers in arms. He'd also heard Rona's name-dropped a few times, with Ulfric declaring that the return of the Dragonborn was just another show of Skyrim's strength and fortitude to carry on through the worst of times. He tried to spin the story as though the Dragonborn coming out of hiding somehow proved that the Thalmor's forces were weakening.

And the Stormcloaks just ate it up. But all that did was piss Bishop the fuck off, listening to that garbage. It was nothing but lies and pandering to those who worshipped the man like he was Talos incarnate. Rona hated Ulfric and Bishop knew she'd rather die than help him win the war, not that the Imperials were much better, of course, considering the Thalmor's plans to turn her into a martyr.

He'd rolled his eyes and gave up trying to pass through instead turning back and taking the long way to get where he needed to be. He was doing his best to make it there in good time too since the seer had stated that what he initially saw hadn't happened yet. He considered buying a horse back in Whiterun, which would have been much faster, but there were none left after the city was evacuated. They'd either been taken by people that had fled or had been killed and eaten by the dragons themselves. So he was forced to walk and he kept his pace strong, hoping to get there quickly. Once in Riverwood, he'd attempted to take the shortcut through the river to the farm, but because of the heavy rains the day prior it was flooding and the current was too strong.

So he went towards Helgen instead, which to his dismay was no longer abandoned but sequestered by the Stormcloaks. He was getting sick of dealing with soldiers and in order to bypass them he took a longer route up through the mountains climbing and trekking through the forests just to avoid them.

It was already nightfall of the second evening as he was nearing the city of Falkreath and the ground was covered in a heavy fog, a result of the ongoing rains from the days prior mixed with the cold weather. He glanced up at the sky and saw that the clouds had thinned and the moons were out in full, which meant that the vision he had seen within the crystal had most likely come to pass and there was a newly turned werewolf out there somewhere hunting for his first kill.

Bishop stayed alert knowing this, but was still startled by a rustling of the bushes nearby and he paused, glancing to his left. He slowly and carefully readied his bow, and slipped an enchanted arrow from his quiver, keeping an eye open for whatever was hiding in there. On the one hand, if it was the werewolf, it would be one of his only chances to get bit. Turning that evening while the moons were out in full would be the best option too since he could easily heal from any other injuries sustained. But on the other hand, being violently mauled by a werewolf that didn't know what they were doing could easily kill him. He decided to take caution with the knowledge that there was another way to turn aside from being bitten.

The bushes rustled again, closer now. He drew a breath, nocked his arrow and prepared to fire once he'd gotten a lock on the beast. Suddenly there was a sharp crunching of the foliage to his right. He flicked his eyes over, feeling nervous now. Two separate spots were shaking and rustling in the thick forest shrubbery and he was definitely not prepared for more than one werewolf. His heart thud in his chest and he wondered if the entire pack had decided to hunt with the new blood.

But there was no time to think about it when the bushes on the right shook and a low growl came from them. He set his aim towards there and released his arrow just as the creature came bursting out of the greenery. His eyes widened in horror as they locked onto his very own russet wolf. Fortunately for him, a figure unexpectedly dropped right out of the trees and caught the arrow out of the air.

Bishop released his breath in relief then scowled at the Bosmer who was just standing there, closely inspecting the arrowhead as Karnwyr ran right up to him, throwing his paws onto his chest. Bishop scratched him affectionately as he got a face full of licks and muttered, "Don't fucking do that shit to me boy. You know better than that."

He watched as Wyllin finished inspecting the arrow and obviously feeling it was good enough, nocked it to her own mammoth recurve bow and aimed for the other rustling shrubbery to their left. She fired it into the bushes and a shrill yelp and a jolt of electrical light indicated she'd hit her target. She casually wandered over to the bushes and grabbed the arrow, lifting a now dead rabbit skewered on the end of it. She started to examine the kill like it was the most interesting thing in the world before she finally said, "Effective but noisy. Better for larger prey."

Bishop looked at her stunned and pushed Karnwyr off his chest and said, "Yeah well I _was_ expecting a werewolf and how come you can talk but the other ones don't?"

"Our ability to speak is dependent on your emotions," she replied, eyeing him keenly with her sparkling green eyes, "and considering you're always two dragon snaps away from blowing your stack, it's fairly easy to remain in form as well as speak." His scowl deepened at her remark and she smirked at him, chuckling, "Which is lucky because otherwise your wolf would have been skewered instead of this rabbit."

She handed him the arrow with the prey still stuck to it before walking away, aiming towards Falkreath. He stowed his bow back and tossed the rabbit to Karnwyr, who was happy to eat, then he quickened his pace to catch up to the little Bosmer woman.

"What about other emotions then? Joy? Fear? Sorrow? Eira's been following me all this time while I've been at my worst and hasn't said two words to me outside of singing a few songs here and there or shouting at the dragons I've been battling."

Wyllin shrugged. "We don't always _want_ to talk either and Eira's always been like that. Vague, mysterious… useless," she mumbled the last word with an edge of disdain.

"Is that why you're so solid now? Because of my anger, or whatever?"

"Essentially, yes," she explained, "Each of us connects more closely to certain emotions and responds accordingly. Eira though… she never did feel much of anything so it's probably why she never talks."

"Really?"

"Well that and she's kind of a bitch," Wyllin shrugged.

Bishop quirked a brow and asked, "What makes you say that?"

"She just is," Wyllin replied tersely then glanced up at the two moons overhead, "We'd better hurry. He'll be looking for his first kill and you're running late."

The Harbinger picked up her pace, leaving him to glare irritably at her back. Everything was getting on his nerves. These mysterious Dragonborn women, the soldiers all blocking his path and a ridiculous prediction he was apparently late for.

The two of them walked into Falkreath and Bishop noticed that the lights were still lit around town. Only a few patrolmen were wandering the streets and a group of drunkards was leaving the tavern and boisterously singing sea shanties at the top of their lungs. He half-expected to see Captain Jack and his crew among them but noticed they were just the regular townsfolk. Lod, the blacksmith, was the only one he recognized because he'd asked around town about a strange dog several months ago.

Bishop had indeed come across a strange dog just like that, but the moment it started talking to him he promptly turned around and walked away from it. He knew better than to follow weird talking animals of any kind and decided to lay off the ale after that experience. He lied to the blacksmith telling him he hadn't seen any dogs at the time, not wanting to get involved.

He had to laugh at himself a little, though, because he knew if Rona had been with him she definitely would have followed that dog wherever it led them and they most likely would have ended up in some sort of trouble because of it. Even so… he missed it. He'd have given anything to have another ridiculous, troublemaking adventure with her.

Wyllin stopped near the inn and scanned the area. Her eyes settled on the group of drunks still singing as they returned to their homes. Bishop stood by her, throwing a hand to his mouth yawning and said, "So what're you thinking? Call it a night? Then see which one of those fools he killed in the morning and follow the blood trail?"

Wyllin kept her gaze firmly locked off in the distance and murmured, "Not interested in saving the life the seer warned you about?"

Bishop shrugged, "Not really. I've had a pretty shitty last few days just getting here and I could use the sleep. We already know the werewolves are hanging out around these forests. They can't be that hard to track. 'Sides, the seer said something about a different way to gain the call of the blood, right? We should figure out what that is instead. If I can avoid getting mauled, I'll take it."

Wyllin bristled suddenly, drew her bow and started speed walking forward saying, "I am afraid your destiny is tied to this life. _Hurry_."

"What? Wait!" He broke into a jog as she started sprinting quickly down the path ahead of him with Karnwyr right on her heels. The two of them shot right past the group of drunks and Karnwyr's low vicious growls startled all of them.

"What the hell!?"

"WOLF! IT'S A WOLF!"

(The Music is _Nocturnus_ by Adrian von Ziegler)

"Outta my way!" Bishop snarled pushing through the group of men. He caught up to Wyllin who'd stopped on the fog covered path right in front of the city's cemetery. She had her arrow trained on a hulking, beastly figure standing amongst the graves. His eyes glowed a haunting yellow in the moonlight and a much smaller figure shivered in fear under his shadow.

It was a little girl with thick black curly hair. She couldn't have been older than eight or nine years old. An innocent child… An _innocent_.

" _Rumenya_ ," Wyllin muttered under her breath as she slowly pulled back on her bowstring, "get the girl and run when I fire. _Three_ …"

Bishop felt his pulse quicken and his adrenaline racing.

" _Two_ …"

The werewolf took one step towards the little girl. His lips trembled with the low growl vibrating from his throat and a long string of saliva dripped from his jowls.

" _One_ …"

Wyllin released her bowstring and sent her serrated arrow spiraling into one of the werewolf's beady yellow eyes. He started howling in pain and scratching madly at his face. The little girl shrieked at the top of her lungs and Bishop didn't hesitate, roaring, "ATTACK!"

Karnwyr belted forward with him and they ran through the fog. He grabbed the girl under her armpits and lifted her off her feet and bolted to the right, towards the lumber mill, holding her against his chest. The werewolf was immediately aware of this, despite the searing pain in his eye. But before he had a chance to chase his prey, Karnwyr sunk his teeth into the werewolf's thigh, giving Bishop a chance to get away.

He ran with everything he had in him. Then he heard a yelp and immediate barking and roaring behind him but didn't look back. He ran up the wooden ramp of the mill, bypassing the logging mechanism and came to a halt at the edge of the building, realizing in his panic he'd trapped himself up on the tall structure. He quickly set the still shaking girl down and commanded, "Stay behind me!" He drew his sword and shield then. If he was going to be fighting a werewolf in close combat he was damn well going to be prepared to do so.

The second Bishop turned around he was faced with the beast slinking up the landing, on all fours and heading straight for them. Wyllin was trying to corral the group of drunks who'd all grabbed every weapon available to them, such as hoes, pitchforks, and torches, stupidly preparing to go down with a fight. His heart sank when he didn't see any sign of Karnwyr.

He steeled himself though and grit his teeth, facing down the beast and spun his blade in hand. The werewolf moved slowly and predatorily. It was studying him and waiting for an opening.

He didn't know if it would work, but he recalled the time Rona had spoken to him when he'd first turned and lost himself in the call of the blood. He figured it couldn't hurt to try and attempted to talk to the man lost in the beast.

"You don't want to do this, Sinding," he said. The werewolf cocked his head in understanding so Bishop kept it up, "That's your name, right? Look. I know you think you have to do this; that you have no other choice. But you don't _need_ them. You can find a cure," he took a breath, gripping his sword tighter as the werewolf slowly rose up on his hind legs and Bishop shouted, "I CAN HELP YOU!"

The beast roared in his face and took a swipe at him. Bishop deflected it with his shield and swung his blade up and under, aiming for the creature's vulnerable belly. The werewolf leapt back though, easily evading the attack. Bishop shouted as he parried back and forth with the werewolf, "HAVE AT YOU!" He was doing everything he could to edge it further away from the little girl who was cowering behind a pile of cut logs.

Bishop had the high ground above the werewolf and nearly had his chance on a downswing when the beast grabbed the blade of his sword, taking the vicious cut between his forefinger and his thumb, but stopping the motion altogether. Bishop tried to pull it back but the creature had too strong of a grip on it. He looked into the beast's good eye and pleaded, "Don't do it. You'll regret it when you change back, _trust_ me. I _know_ what I'm talking about."

The werewolf spoke then, his voice was that of a man's but mangled over a monster's as he roared, "I have no choice! My life is forsaken! I must survive. The innocent. _Must. Die_."

"RRRRRRAAAAAA NO!" Bishop pushed harder on his blade, trying to cut through but it was no use, he just wasn't strong enough. He needed the power of his enemy.

"Bite me!" Bishop snarled at the creature, "GO ON! _BITE ME!_ "

The werewolf ripped the blade from his hands and threw it back behind him. Bishop's chest was heaving as he left himself open, waiting for an attack that would change him, that would make him more powerful. But instead of biting him the werewolf slashed at him severely, throwing him down the ramp. It bolted up the landing just as an arrow flew past, missing him. Wyllin had finally staved off the drunks and caught up to Bishop who was holding his chest where the beast had carved its mark into him. She pulled him to his feet and they ran up the ramp, aiming to stop the monster but it was too late.

The little girl gave a shrill scream as they watched the man-turned-monster tear into her like a bear ripping into a faun. Bishop couldn't hear anything over Wyllin's anguished shrieking and he watched as she transformed before his very eyes. Her bones broke, snapped and cracked, reshaping themselves and she grew much larger as fur sprouted from her body. Her bellowing roars caught the attention of Sinding who was covered in the child's viscera. He took one look at her before turning away and leapt off the platform before speeding off into the forest beyond. Wyllin took chase disappearing in the dark, foggy woods after him. Their roars and howls echoed and faded into the night.

Bishop clutched at his bleeding abdomen and slowly approached the scene at the edge of the mill. He swallowed hard, looking down at the body of the innocent child in front of him. She'd been nearly torn in half and disemboweled. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the full moons in the sky. His stomach floundered at the sight and he quickly turned away from her, heading back down the ramp of the mill to go retch in a nearby bush.

Bishop pressed a hand to the stone wall and emptied his stomach over the shrubbery. He wiped the spittle from his mouth and slumped down, trying to catch his breath. His heart was still pounding and he was trying to come down from the rush of adrenaline, but it was hard.

He was _so_ angry. Angrier than he'd ever felt in his life. Even after witnessing the atrocities his father and his brother had committed against him and his siblings, the act of pure evil he just witnessed enraged him in a way that he didn't know how to express. He hoped the feeling was at least enough to keep the ghostly Harbinger going strong so she could catch and slaughter the werewolf that had committed the crime.

It wasn't long before the townsfolk came around to see what all the commotion was about. Valga, the innkeeper spotted him and ran to his side. "Bishop! Oh, gods! What's happened?"

"Werewolf," he breathed, "Don't go up the mill. It's bad Valga. Real bad."

"I'll get help," she said and ran towards an old Altmer man who was watching with a group of townsfolk as the guards cautiously went up the mill. Word spread very quickly when they announced the death of the child and immediately informed her parents. The child, whose name was Lavinia, had of course been well known to everyone in the small hold. Her murder was felt by everyone. But even as Bishop listened to the anguished wails of the girl's mother and the broken sobs of her father, the rage boiling inside of him would not stop. In fact, it only reinforced his desire to seek out some form of justice.

Valga brought over Runil, a priest of Arkay, to heal him. The elderly Altmer did what he could with his magicka, while Bishop unemotionally relayed everything that had happened to the head of the guard and the Jarl who'd both come out to see what had happened. He did not speak with the girl's parents. He had failed to protect their child and couldn't bring himself to interrupt their grief, not even to apologize.

When his healing and bandaging were finished, he got up and wandered back towards the cemetery where he found Karnwyr licking at a bad slash on his back leg. Runil was kind enough to heal him up and Valga offered Bishop a bed at her inn for the evening. He took it wanting nothing more than pass out and forget everything he'd just witnessed. He wanted to forget just how weak he'd been, how incapable he was of saving that little girl. If he couldn't even protect a child then how could he ever help Rona?

He stood in the doorway of the inn and looked out at the silent, foggy forest for a moment. There was no sign of his Bosmeri companion anywhere. He tried not to concern himself with it though and quickly went inside. He laid down on the double bed with his wolf at his side and closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.

That morning Bishop roused to a light scratching sound. He blinked his eyes a few times, letting his vision adjust to the few rays of light that were casting through the nearby window. The memory of everything that had happened the night before quickly came back to him. He ran a hand over his face and groaned before pushing himself up on the bed. He grit his teeth and clutched at his abdomen where the werewolf had slashed him. Runil had admitted that he wasn't the greatest at restoration and Bishop could definitely tell, as he was sure some of his wounds just reopened.

He heard the soft scratching sound again and looked over to his right. The noise wasn't coming from Karnwyr, who was still dead asleep next to him snoring quietly but from the Harbinger. She'd changed back to normal and was sitting cross-legged on the floor carving what looked like an arrowhead from a piece of bone. He noticed a decent pile of arrows she'd carved and fletched set off to the side her. There were at least two dozen or more.

He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed his trousers from the floor and started to dress himself.

"Did you kill him?"

"No," she answered promptly as she finished off carving the arrowhead and started to wrap it to a wood shaft.

"Fuck," he finished pulling his boots on and buckling his leather cuirass, taking care not to agitate his chest wound. He walked over to her and asked, "So what's all this for?"

"For the hunt," she said as she carefully fletched feathers to the arrow.

"My enchanted arrows will probably do a better job than those, no offense."

"These aren't for the beast. They're for your challenge," she wrapped the bundle up in twine and held it up to him, "Here, take them. He's expecting us."

He took the arrows, but raised a brow at her, "He who?"

She pushed herself off the ground and gathered up her belongings, fastening her quiver to herself and taking her bow in hand. "The Huntsman of the Princes; Hircine." She went over and started stroking Karnwyr's fur, rousing the wolf from his dream. He gave a deep yawning whine and nuzzled her hand. "We'll need all the help we can get to catch him," she said, "I'll heal your wolf and see about mending your wounds as well."

Bishop watched as she cast a powerful healing spell over Karnwyr which seemed to wake him up more and gave him a sudden burst of energy. He gave a low whine, stretched and started wagging his tail happily before hopping off the bed.

Bishop smiled down at his furry companion and was suddenly surprised when Wyllin grabbed at his leather cuirass and started to quickly unfasten it. "Whoa!"

She got it open and immediately pressed a warm hand to his bare chest and whispered the incantation needed to further heal him. He felt relief as the cuts slowly sealed shut and healed over much better than Runil had done the day before.

"There, that should do for now. You're lucky he didn't disembowel you," she said idly as she looked at the mix of scars on his chest and belly.

He raised a brow at her and smirked, "Damn, you are all so alike."

"Hm?" Wyllin glanced up at him.

"A bunch of feisty little runts just looking to get their hands on this hard body of mine," he smirked at her suddenly reddening face and then he laughed, "See? You even blush the same!"

She scowled at him and quickly walked away, clicking her tongue so that Karnwyr would follow her.

"Wha-! Hey!" Bishop fixed his cuirass, grabbed his bow and ran after her, "You don't have to keep stealing my wolf damn it! It was just a joke!"

"Keep it up and I'll make him one of my familiars for good," she said smirking at him. But then her face fell and she spoke more seriously, "We have important matters to attend to… but first I would like to pay my respects." He looked at her bewildered as she continued onward, aiming for the graveyard behind the inn. The fog was still thick in the air and they heard an elderly man's voice and the sounds of people weeping. As they drew closer they saw figures appear amidst the graves and Bishop's heart sank when he saw Runil standing beside the smallest casket he'd ever seen.

"The god Arkay was once like us, bound to winding mortality," the old priest was delivering a sermon to the townsfolk and giving the last rites for the deceased. The entire city had turned out for the funeral, except, Bishop noted, the Jarl and his entourage. He stood by Wyllin, in the back of the crowd, listening quietly and respectfully.

"But he willingly gave up his existence that we might better understand the vagaries of life and death. It is through the ebb and flow of this cosmic tide that we find renewal and, in the end, peace. May the spirit of Lavinia and all those who have left this world and its suffering know the beloved serenity of Aetherius... ...and may we one day rejoin them in eternity."

The onlookers placed offerings and flowers on the girl's coffin, one by one. But it wasn't until two men lifted her coffin and lowered it into a hole in the ground that the child's mother released deep, gut-churning sobs. Bishop immediately felt sick with guilt. He went to turn away, to leave, but Wyllin grabbed him by the sleeve of his armor and shook her head, "We still have to pay our respects."

He looked at her exasperated, pleading with his eyes to leave but she just held him firmly and made him wait. Finally, after another twenty minutes of listening to the priest give the final rites and the townsfolk consoling the family, they'd all been ushered off to mourn elsewhere. Only two remained.

Wyllin walked around the graves and stopped in front of the freshly stamped pile of dirt on the ground. Bishop stood beside her, knitting his brows together as he looked over the plot. The Harbinger took a single arrow from her quiver and placed it sideways on the mound. "Arkay may watch over her soul, but it is Hircine who will bring her retribution."

Bishop twisted his lips, holding back the scoff in his throat and he crossed his arms, "Like Hircine gives a shit about any of this."

Wyllin cut her eyes angrily at him, nearly making him flinch with the fury she held in her gaze. She stood up, dusting her knees off and said, "What that monster did was _evil_ and _wrong_. He has offended the Lord of the Hunt by taking the life of a defenseless innocent. That is not his way. As Hounds, we are meant to pride ourselves on hunting the strongest of beasts. There is no honor in senselessly killing the young."

He looked her over and asked, "So you must have hunted Alduin when you were Dragonborn, huh? Did he kill you too?"

Wyllin evaded his questioning gaze and she quickly brushed past him. "No I did not hunt the World Eater and no, he did not kill me."

Bishop started to follow her as she began weaving her way through the forest. "Hang on. You just said you're all supposed to pride yourselves on hunting the strongest beasts or whatever. So why the hell wouldn't you go after Alduin?"

"Because I wasn't about to live out some preplanned destiny foretold in an ancient prophecy on how to live my life. No matter how many ghosts tried to herd me on that path."

Bishop looked at her incredulously, "You can't be serious. You had all that power and a chance to take down the greatest prey of all time and you just _ignored_ it?"

"Considering the dragons never stopped hunting me, I'd hardly say I was able to ignore it, as much as I wanted to."

He stopped walking and barked angrily at her back. "You could have killed him! It could have ended with _you_ ages ago. You had the power of a dragon _and_ a werewolf."

"Perhaps," she said regarding him, "But I can be _very_ stubborn and when a certain red-headed bitch wouldn't stop pestering me to do as told like the rest of them, I couldn't help but do everything I could to spite her instead."

" _You mean Eira?_ " He snapped at her, clenching his fists, "She tried to help you! To put a stop to it all!"

Wyllin halted her march, standing beside a tall pine and looked back at him, "She is not who you think she is, nor what the legends tell of her. Eira is a selfish woman who only cares about her dragon and herself. Everything that happened to her was her own doing. She's not here to help us, she's here to _use_ us, to exact her age-old vengeance on a beast that took everything from her. And I promise you, she's used _her_ too. All the pain and the misery on her path? That's because of Eira. It's a cruel path that she set in motion for us millennia ago. To chase the World Eater is to chase nothing but tragedy."

Bishop was feeling his burning anger again, building into a rage. He was so sick of it all and he felt more than betrayed, not only by Rona, who had lied to him and left him behind like he was some helpless child but because the one who'd been following him while his heart ached for her all those months had been Eira. She'd been like a gentle beacon reaffirming that Rona was still alive out there somewhere and she gave him hope somehow that everything would be alright.

Now though he realized that was all a lie too. It started to become plain as day to him. Eira had just been keeping an eye on him, fighting all those dragons alongside him for months and keeping him alive so that Rona would not lose herself to despair like before. And she did it all so she could keep leading Rona towards a path of vengeance. He could literally feel a vein pulsing in his head as these thoughts swirled in his mind.

He didn't even notice Wyllin standing there until she touched his arm and spoke gently to him, "I can feel your anger burning inside of you. It fuels my presence, but it hurts me too. You must learn to control this emotion and use it to your benefit."

He unclenched his fists and looked down at her, softening his gaze. They really were all alike and there was something about her that soothed him. He didn't know why, but he began to confide in her as though he'd known her his whole life, "There was someone who taught me how to control and ease my anger once before… he helped free me from the pain of my past. He was a Harbinger, like you."

She smiled warmly at him, revealing her sharpened canines, "I believe I know of who you speak. I met him on the Hunting Grounds before he left for Sovngarde. Kodlak was a good Companion and Shield-Brother. It was strange meeting an old man like that, one who knew of my tale and who behaved more like a young lad, thrilled to meet his greatest hero for the first time."

Bishop gave a light laugh and shook his head, "Of course he would."

Wyllin grasped his chin and pushed his head up, "Chin up, _Rumenya_ ," then she gave a light pat to his shoulder and turned back towards the forest, "We have prey to hunt. Stay close to me and keep your eyes open for him."

He called to Karnwyr who'd gotten distracted chasing a hare into its burrow and caught up to Wyllin quietly asking, "What exactly are we looking for if not the werewolf?"

"We are looking for Hircine," she replied as if that was obvious.

He furrowed his brows, "And what exactly does he look like?"

She shrugged, "Not sure what form he chose yet. But you'll know it when you see it. Now try to be quiet, we don't want to alert him to our presence."

He clammed up and stifled the exasperated sigh building in his throat. The two of them and his wolf walked for hours through the forest. Occasionally Wyllin would stop to study some animal tracks or look over the foliage, almost as if she actually knew what they were searching for, then she would turn to the left or right suddenly and follow a new path.

He was trying to keep a handle on his anger but he was growing impatient with it all. The sheer frustration of not knowing what they were even looking for was slowly driving him mad. Not only that but he noticed that Karnwyr caught on that they were hunting and instead of the wolf looking to him for guidance, he kept his attention more on the little Harbinger, waiting for _her_ command. He knew he shouldn't let it annoy him as much as it did, but that was _his_ wolf damn it!

Bishop was so caught up in his own muddled thoughts that he hadn't noticed Wyllin stopped right in front of him and he bumped into her back. Luckily she barely budged, almost as if she was expecting him to do that. Instead, she shot him an irate glare and when he went to snap at her she quickly threw a finger to her lips and shook her head slightly. He clammed up again and she nodded her head forward, motioning to a small clearing in the forest ahead.

(The Music is _The Hunt_ by Brunuhville)

Bishop looked out into the foggy haze and his breath caught in his throat when he noticed something he had seen once before many, many years ago; long before he ever knew Rona even. Back then he'd thought it was something out of a dream, but now he knew better.

A beautiful, pure white stag stood in the forest, grazing idly between several trees. It was a creature of sheer beauty, with a heavy, glowing coat that was whiter than the freshest snow. The hair drifted up around its body, almost as though it were floating underwater. Its eyes were like two pearls, shimmering under thickly lashed hoods. But its horns were something magical to behold. They were like a pair of enormous detailed sculptures which curled into spectacular, symmetrical shapes and if you stared long enough into the gaps between them you could see the history of all the greatest hunters from an age long past conquering the fiercest of prey. The beast had a powerful, yet elegant figure as it stood there, softly chewing on a clove of alfalfa.

It took a single step forward to pull at another knot of the purple flowers and a cluster of flora bloomed all around its hooves. Bishop also noticed that it was eerily quiet in the grove and he looked around the area and saw what appeared to be an audience of birds and rabbits all silently observing this mythical being from their spots under the brush and in the trees as if they were just as in awe of it as he was.

Wyllin started to draw her bow, nocking an arrow to it and Bishop looked at her incredulously. How could she think to kill something like that? It was like… _a god_. In fact, it _was_ a god. It was Hircine; there was no doubt about it.

When he didn't make a move Wyllin nudged him by the elbow and nodded sharply to her bow as if to say, _draw and shoot_. Despite the bad feeling he was getting about it, he drew his bow and nocked one of the serrated arrows she'd made for him and lined up his shot, aiming between its eyes. Karnwyr, as always, slowly and quietly prowled around the perimeter.

Bishop sucked in a breath, waiting for his wolf to get in position but then something happened that he definitely had not anticipated, but he should have. Karnwyr barely brushed against a tree when a hoard of green glowing bees sprang out of the leaves and the bark parted like water as a Spriggan stuck its wooden head out.

"Shit!" Bishop snarled as Karnwyr was suddenly being attacked and stung by the bees, yelping loudly as he ran to escape them. The white stag got spooked and leapt up, cantering off through a gap in the trees leaving a bursting trail of flowers behind it.

Bishop started firing arrows into the Spriggan, trying to get to Karnwyr as quickly as he could before the creature had a chance to take control of him. He got a lucky shot straight through the center of the thing's skull as he slid down a muddy slope towards the center of the grove. The Spriggan collapsed and Bishop hurried over to Karnwyr who was twitching madly. He quickly unclasped a potion from his belt and went to douse his furry brother with it when Karnwyr lunged up and sunk his jaws into his wrist instead.

"AUGH! FUCK! KARNWYR STOP!"

A Spriggan Matron and two smaller Spriggans peered down at him from up on the slope through the trees. Of course, there would be more. They were known to live in groups and it seemed the Matron had cast a spell over Karnwyr to take control of his mind.

Bishop thrust his bow aside and gripped the hair on the back of Karnwyr's head, trying desperately to pull him off without hurting him, but the Matron's spell was too strong and his wolf was so far gone he was afraid he'd have to kick him off or hurt him.

Suddenly he was surrounded in an aura of green magic and Karnwyr's grip on him loosened to the point that he finally let go. Bishop snatched his arm back, holding the bleeding wound to his chest and the wolf looked around confounded for a moment. Wyllin stood by them both, looking up at the three Spriggans and said, "His mind should be warded against their power for now. Quick! Help me take down the three of them!"

Bishop shook off the pain in his wrist and pushed himself off the ground, grabbing his bow as he went. More furious than ever, he quickly started drawing his flame enchanted arrows from his quiver and began firing them at the Spriggans on the hill. Wyllin did the same with her own serrated arrows and her bow. He got lucky, hitting the Matron twice in the chest, forcing her to catch fire. The other two skittered away from her as she released a hissing shriek and her entire chest cavity burst into flames. Wyllin sprint off chasing after the two with Karnwyr right at her heels while Bishop chose to stow his bow back and leapt forward, digging his boots and hands into the soft muddy hill, scaling the steep slope as quickly as he could. He pulled himself up onto the grassy knoll and drew his sword, standing over the Matron who was writhing on the ground, trying to douse the flames on her body. Her wood hands caught fire when she tried to smack them away from her chest.

Bishop felt the blood from his hand dripping around the grip of his sword, making it slippery. He was absolutely seething at the fact that this creature had set his own wolf on him.

" _Nobody_. _Touches_. _My wolf_ ," he growled before he raised his blade with both hands and slammed it down hard into the Matron's forehead. The forest echoed with the sound of a blade chopping into wood repeatedly, as though a lumberjack was hard at work splitting logs, but it was Bishop unleashing his fury into the body of the Spriggan Matron. The creature's eyes faded from their glowing, acid green to dark hollows as death crept over it. He caught his breath and looked back over the hill, down where the blooming hoof prints started.

He sheathed his sword and slid back down the slope and started to follow the path laid out for him. He pulled a roll of bandages from his pocket and quickly wrapped his hand up as he walked, taking care to stay quiet. There was no sign of either Wyllin or Karnwyr, but he knew they'd be alright wherever they'd gotten off to. His main focus was to hunt and kill the white stag before it had another chance to escape him.

It felt very unsettling just thinking about killing something like that. But he was so frustrated and angry with everything that he instead allowed his fury to drive him. He pushed down the thought of just how disappointed Rona would be in him for hunting something so peaceful and then he nearly scoffed at that thought. What right did she have to be disappointed in his choices when she herself had gotten mixed up with both the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood? What would she care that he was choosing to follow this path laid out for him by Hircine? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her and her feelings? She obviously didn't care about his.

He felt a vein pulsing in his head because he was grinding his teeth so hard together. Bishop forced the thoughts of her from his mind and took in his surroundings as he passed through a pair of twin aspen trees. The forest was unnaturally quiet. The fog seemed to grow thicker the longer he lingered, so he kept moving, eyeing the lush path of flowers in front of him and then he stopped right at the side of an enormous oak. A light rain started to fall as thunder crackled overhead and the fog began to lift.

(The Music is _No Matter What I Will Fight_ by Brian Delgado)

Ahead of him in a thicket of bushes and trees was the white stag, only this time it stood unmoving, its pearlescent eyes locked onto him. Bishop drew his bow and slipped one of the serrated arrows from his quiver, nocking it and took aim. He moved slowly and purposefully then held very still, hesitating. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing something so terribly wrong, like making the biggest mistake of his life somehow.

Then his heart twist in his chest as his gaze fell into the depths of the stag's horns. Where there were once images of the greatest hunters taking down their prey he instead saw only her.

Scene after scene played out of Rona fighting with all the strength and power inside her small frame, taking down dragons endlessly, both in the past and the present. He saw her struggles, her ferocity, and her unwillingness to give up or give in through all of it.

And then he watched himself die that day in Cyrodiil, as Drogaavlok swept in and slashed him across the chest. He could see the intensity of her horror and he could feel her anguish and then her rage as she battled without a care or concern for her own life. She'd fought for him only to find he'd succumbed to his wounds and then somehow she brought him back, ripping his soul from Sovngarde, even as his brother was consumed by the World Eater.

"She is a true hunter," the harsh voice of a Daedric Prince reverberated through the pines, shaking the leaves, "But so were all the Dragonborn. Whether he meant to or not, Akatosh gave them the cunning and ferocity that all hunters engender. If your desire is to be with such a brave soul, a warrior who fights her prey without _fear_ or _hesitation_ , then you too must learn to embody this. Kill the white stag and I shall grant you the power you seek."

Bishop fought down his reluctance, raised his bow, sucked in his breath and fired, sending the serrated arrow spiraling through the chill air until it splintered straight into the heart of the beast. The white stag gave a soft cry and slumped down onto the grass.

The fog lifted entirely and once again Wyllin was standing by his side and she spoke, "And so it is done. Go on, _Rumenya_. Claim your reward."

Bishop approached the downed creature and stood over it. He noticed the sounds of animals returning to the forest and the strange aura it had exuded seemed to have lifted. The body of a lean man with the head of a stag appeared before him.

"Well done my champion. You have killed the god of the forest and have released its protection over the wildlife here. My hunters will be much more successful when seeking their prey in these parts."

Bishop looked down at the body of the stag and said, "I thought you were-"

"The prey?" Hircine laughed, "I would never take on the form of such a weak and docile beast. No… but it was simple enough to make you want to conquer it. All I merely had to do was show you the strength and wrath your own mate embodies," he smiled wryly at Bishop, who was feeling his blood boiling over the fact he'd been so easily manipulated again. But Hircine merely mocked him, "You always were one of my weaker hunters. Sanguine's influence on you has cost you the loss of far too much prey… but I am here to rectify that."

Hircine held his palm out, revealing a simple, silver ring in his hand, "This is my ring. With it, you will become moon born without the need of a forebear. You will not be bound to hunt eternally at my side in my realm after death… however, be wary," the stag head of the Daedric Prince grinned strangely as he mused, "You will find yourself steadily craving the power the ring holds with every transformation. The more you use it, the more your mind will warp to that of a beast and soon you will be nothing more than a predator seeking its prey."

Bishop stared at the ring which glowed with a strange red hue. It was a Daedric Artifact, just like the Ebony Blade and Mehrunes' Razor. If he took it he would forever be under the influence of the Daedric Prince that made it. The very notion that he would be controlled by an object like that made him apprehensive to take it. Still… Rona had taken Mehrune's Razor because she knew she was weaker without it and who was he to deny this gift from Hircine? With this, he would be free to change without giving up his soul to the Prince. It was exactly what he'd been searching for. It was the power he so desperately needed to help her.

Hircine snarled at him, "Your hesitation will cost you, ranger. It is not wise to refuse the gift of god."

With that he reached out and took the ring, palming it.

"A wise choice my hunter," Hircine said firmly. Then he looked over at Wyllin who had approached them. She bowed her head to the Daedric Prince and he addressed her, " _Aaahh_ Harbinger Wyllin. What have you brought to offer me?"

Wyllin pulled the strange wolf carved necklace over her head and handed it to him saying, "The lost souls of the Nords turned to dragons, my Prince."

Hircine gripped the pendant which lit up for a moment and a string of spine-chilling wails escaped the mouth of the wolf as the Daedric Prince took them for himself then he handed the pendant back to her which she pulled over her head.

"You've done well, hunter. These souls will make for fine prey on the Hunting Grounds. But you know your task in this realm is not yet over," he looked back to Bishop then and said, "My Hound will guide you to Bloated Man's Grotto where the craven Sinding attempts to conceal himself from my knowing gaze. He dishonors my gifts with his cowardice and his worship of Sithis. You will kill him and take his hide for yourself. Do this and you will receive my blessing."

And with that last, Hircine vanished before them. Wyllin immediately turned around aiming for the northwest and Bishop called to her back, "Wait! We can't," he glanced down at the sad, dead stag and muttered, "we can't just leave it like this."

She didn't look at him when she spoke, "I advise against disturbing the body of a god. The forest will take it back and mourn its loss. We, however, have a job to do. Come along _Rumenya_ , you mustn't hesitate lest your prey escape."


	22. Chapter 22 A Parwen and Her Paradan

_*Rumenya – friend_

 _*Parwen – female lover_

 _*Paradan – male lover_

 **Chapter 22**

 **A Parwen and Her Paradan**

Bishop stared down at the ring in his hand. He turned it over a few times and scoffed a little to himself. It wasn't anything spectacular. Just a beat-up old, silver ring. One thing about it struck him though which was that it looked oddly a lot like the ring his brother had carved for him ages ago with a howling wolf's head etched into it. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he grazed his index finger over it again, studying it closely.

"You'll sooner burn a hole in your palm than transform from staring at it for so long." Wyllin prodded the campfire with a long stick, turning over a smoldering log, making it reignite again. The fire illuminated their surroundings in the dark nicely; casting shadows back on every rock and stone in the vicinity of their campsite.

Bishop glanced up at his traveling companion from his spot on the ground. He fisted the ring in his palm and leaned back against a fallen log, throwing his elbows up on it. He looked her over for a moment before his eyes fell on the wolf beside her. Karnwyr, to his dismay, had chosen to curl up next to the little Bosmer instead of him that evening. She scratched him idly behind the ears while he slept soundly, snoring into his paws.

Bishop's golden eyes roved from his wolf back over to the Harbinger. He couldn't understand why Karnwyr was so taken with her. No… that was a lie. He knew exactly why.

 _Because she's a werewolf_ , he told himself.

"I know it bothers you, _Rumenya_ ," she said as if reading his mind, "Once you start wearing the ring and have your first turning his loyalties will fall to you again. No worries there."

He quirked a brow at her, then maneuvered the ring from his palm between his thumb and index finger and held it up. Squeezing one eye shut he peered through the hole of the ring at her and asked, "But it's addictive or something? That's what Hircine said, right? That I'll crave the power it gives me and my mind will turn into a beast's."

Her green eyes flicked up at him. He could see the flames dancing in them giving them an impish gleam. "You were moon-born before, were you not?"

"Yeah, I was."

"It will be the same then, but stronger - _much_ stronger. Do you remember what it felt like?"

He propped his arm back up on the log again, spinning the ring between his fingers and said thoughtfully, "I remember smelling every fresh, steaming shit from a mile away."

Wyllin laughed and he grinned back at her as he continued, "I could sense the pulse of anything living, taste the steel in the air from the forge, hear every hushed, bullshit rumor spoken behind closed doors and _gods!_ Could I smell _her!_ One whiff inside our house and it was like going feral. I can't tell you how many times I had to sew the buttons back on the crotch of my trousers."

Wyllin snorted loudly at that and rolled her eyes. "So much like him," she murmured.

He smirked at her, "Like who?"

Her smile softened as she looked into the fire and said, "My _paradan_ … my love. You remind me of him. A little too much if I'm to be honest."

"That so?"

"Very much so," she replied. "He was an absolute womanizer to start. Boasting, boorish, and far too cocky for his own good. But after traveling with him for a time, he started to grow on me. I saw something in him, something he tried very hard to keep hidden at all costs."

Bishop's grin faded as she told this too familiar story, yet he felt curious and asked, "What was he hiding?"

She looked up at him and said simply, "His heart."

Bishop met her piercing gaze with a knowing look in his eyes. "But you broke through his shell and he opened up to you right?"

"Yes," she said smiling again.

"Then you two went off and found your happily ever after I take it? Since you gave up your destiny and all…"

She looked away from him, scowling harshly into the fire and said with a tone of anger, "No. We did not."

Bishop furrowed his brows, knowing he should stop now. Seeing that face – hearing that deep-seated rage beneath her words – there was no good story there. And yet he probed her further, despite himself, "What happened?"

"Eira happened," she said tersely.

"What did she do?"

Wyllin prodded the fire again with a stick, no longer looking at him. "It's wrong to speak ill of the dead."

"Yeah, but you're dead too, so I'd say that rule of thumb doesn't apply anymore."

"Hmph." A small smile perked at the corner of her mouth and then she tossed the stick into the fire and dusted her hands off on her knees. "So be it then. I don't care for rumors or gossip," she said looking him sharply in the eyes, "so what I am about to tell you, be sure to take with as many grains of salt as needed. She may not be all bad, I don't know how she treated the others, but every memory I have of her is awful and I have never forgiven her for what she did to us."

"Us?" He asked almost hesitantly.

Wyllin was staring into the fire, a brooding shadow falling over her face. Finally, she spoke, her words etched with a trace of melancholy for a time long since passed.

"If it isn't obvious, I was born in the forests of Valenwood, in the city of Cormount to be precise. I'd always believed my lineage was pure Bosmer, that is," she scoffed, "hah… until the day I learned that I was Dragonborn. That's when I found out that my great-great-grandmother on my mother's side was a Nord. I never did accept my fate. From the very beginning, I did not want it… very few do. Eira seems to believe that she can convince us all otherwise and perhaps she did with some, but not with me. I'm a Bosmer damn it!" she shouted, clenching at the grass beside her, "Not some mythic Nordic hero! At least… I never should have been. I just wanted my freedom," she looked up at him, knitting her brows together.

This was an admission that Bishop was all too familiar with. Rona, too, only ever wanted her freedom from the destiny that bore down on her. He felt sympathy for the little Bosmer. So many times he'd tried to guide Rona away from her path, to save her from it somehow, to no avail.

"My _paradan_ ," she said, releasing the blades of grass and lacing her fingers together in her lap, "he was a Nord, like you, but he was nothing like the Nords of my time, the haters of the elves… he was a loner and a free spirit, a man who lived in the wilds and rejected the ways of his kind. We met, oddly enough, when we were both attempting to set free a pack of wild wolves that had been captured by some men. They were starved, tortured and thrown into a pit, forced to fight each other."

"Pit fighting," Bishop grit and scowled into the fire, "Bastards."

Wyllin nodded dejectedly. "It was a little bit of a mix up at first. I'd thought he was one of them and he quickly found himself under the edge of my dagger," she smirked, shaking her head at the memory, "Once I found out that he was there to help the wolves I quickly let him up and we worked together to free them. I'd like to say it was love at first sight and all that fanciful nonsense, but that was hardly the case. My trust for the Nords was sparse, to say the least, due to my past experiences with them. Although I have to admit his near _-immediate_ interest in me took me by surprise at the time…"

Bishop noticed her intense blushing and the suppressed smile she could scarcely hide under her long strawberry blonde locks. Grinning himself he said, "He was a real charmer I take it?"

She pushed her long hair out of her face and looked him straight in the eyes. Her wide grin showed off her sharpened canines as she stated matter-of-factly, "Well we had sex that same day if you really must know."

Bishop busted up laughing at her shameless declaration and slapped a hand to his face, "Gods be damned woman! Think I'll ever get to meet him? I think I need some tips. It took me all of two months before Rona even considered letting me bed her!"

"Hmm," she gave a light laugh, "Heh, well, unless you wish to join us in the Hunting Grounds, I doubt that you two will ever meet. Probably for the best really. I can only imagine the sort of trouble you two would find yourselves in. Two idiot horn dogs running amok..."

Bishop chuckled at her shrewd remark and asked, "So you were already Harbinger when you met him or…?"

"Hardly," she snorted, "I'd only just become a member back then. That mission was one of my firsts. I had to prove myself ten times over the average Nord who came calling at the doors of Jorrvaskr, all because I was an elf. Even being Dragonborn didn't benefit me much, although I believe that may be why I was allowed in at all and I was begrudgingly accepted by most of my Shield-Siblings."

"Sorry to hear that," Bishop said sincerely.

She shrugged, "Its fine. I proved myself again and again and before you know it I was Harbinger of the Companions and I assure you, _I earned_ that title and gained the respect of my comrades with it."

"Well if it makes you feel any better the Companions offer a bed and a blade to anyone who can prove themselves a true warrior these days," Bishop said, patting the scabbard of his sword beside him.

"It warms my heart to know they made such great strides since my time."

They were quiet for a moment, both gazing into the fire when Bishop finally asked her the question that was really burning in his mind, "So what did Eira do?"

Wyllin sighed, twisting her fingers together before leaning back against the tall pine she was seated beneath. She looked up at the stars glittering in the clear sky, finally free of the thick cloud cover they'd experienced back in Falkreath. "The night after I learned what I was I met her. It was in a dream. We were surrounded by dragons and a few other women… more of her descendants. _Faal Vahdin do Dovah Yolos_ ," she said, and translated for him, "or rather, the Maidens of Dragon Flame as they have been so dearly named by the very beasts who would see them scorched to ash. All around me they were singing to the skies as the dragons flew overhead. Their voices were loud and the music even louder."

She idly scratched at her shoulder and said, "Eira encouraged me to join them in this bizarre ritual. But it felt wrong… like I was _worshipping_ those awful things. All my life I'd only known the dragons as dominators of mortalkind. They were cruel, merciless monsters and while most of them, thankfully, remained in Skyrim, there were some that left their frozen mountains to settle in our lands too. One of my earliest memories was of a dragon that burned our neighboring forest to the ground. It was horrible. So when she stood there, holding her hand out like she was my friend and bade me to join them… I refused. I told her that I would never worship or praise those vile wyrms with the beauty of song."

"I take it she didn't like that," Bishop guessed.

"No," she said shaking her head, "She did _not_. I'll never forget the way her warm demeanor changed so cold so fast like a winter's gust snuffing out an inviting fire. It was… _terrifying_. From then on Eira followed my footsteps. She would appear when my emotions were strongest. She meddled in my life and all my relationships. She pushed and pulled and did everything she could to force me to face my destiny and every time a dragon came calling, threatening me _or_ my paradan she used it as a reason to argue her case. But I wouldn't hear it," she glanced up at him, and the fire cast a haunting shadow over her face, "Did you know, if your emotions are strong enough, they can come to life? As if they're really here with us in the flesh again?"

"I've seen it happen a few times before, yeah."

"Did you know you can hurt them?"

He hesitated not liking where this was going, but swallowed and nodded.

She noticed his apprehension and asked, "Are you sure you want to know how I died, _Rumenya?_ "

He took a deep breath, thinking it over for a minute before he finally said, "Yes. Tell me."

Wyllin stood up and approached the dimming fire in the center of their camp. She stared into it and said, "Since we do not have the Book, this will have to do."

Bishop looked up at her from his spot on the ground, totally perplexed by what she meant.

"Don't blink," she said before immediately throwing her hands over the flames, making them spark and rise into a roaring inferno. Bishop's eyes widened in alarm and she shouted through the fire, "RAAN MIR TAH!"

He didn't even have an opportunity to shield his face when he was consumed by the flames. He cried out as they surrounded him, casting him into a world of light before slowly fading, revealing an all too familiar landscape before him. He held his hands out and looked himself over quickly and was surprised to find he wasn't hurt at all. But he was even more surprised that it was no longer night, but somehow dusk again. The sun was slowly setting in the distance, beyond the snowy mountains, indicating it was around five in the evening.

Bishop stood up and looked around. He was near the edge of a forest on a road leading out towards what appeared to be a grassy plateau, untouched by winter. Further off beyond several stone towers were the walls of Whiterun. Had he somehow made it all the way back to Whiterun? He didn't understand.

Then he heard a cocky laugh behind him and turned. There, walking along the dirt road was the little Bosmer, scowling in annoyance and beside her was someone else, snickering at her sour face. Bishop had to do a double-take because he was almost positive the man with her was himself, or perhaps a close relative. The likeness was utterly uncanny.

The man was significantly taller than the little Bosmer, towering at least a full foot above her. He was sporting a short haircut, shaved on the sides and combed back out of his face. His facial stubble was undeniably like Bishop's, except that he kept a section around his chinstrap a bit longer than the rest. He had a swath of scars across his face, definitely from a sabre-cat or maybe even a dragon and he had a distinct spattering of blue warpaint over his right eye. He was the definition of an old fashioned traditional-looking Nord and just like his short friend he was fully equipped in the famous Companion's wolf armor.

"I told you not to try it Springlock. But do you ever listen to me?" He chided playfully as he carefully stowed his old wooden bow back under his thin black cape.

"Oh? And since when have you ever listened to me either, Fleet-Fang?" She said glaring up at him and holding her hand up, listing off several amusing tales on her fingers, "Like the time I told you _not_ to poke that cave-bear with a stick? Or the time you thought it would be funny to shoot fire-arrows into that nest of frost-bite spiders? Or how about when you stupidly scaled off the edge of a cliff just to pick some rare flower that only grows on steep inclines under a full moon? Each and every time getting yourself into trouble and forcing me to save your dumbass."

"Hey! That last one was for you, yah know. It was a moonflower for the loveliest werewolf I know," he said, flashing her a charming grin. Wyllin rolled her eyes at him and he seized the opportunity to lean back and spank her on the bottom, making her yelp loudly.

"OW!"

He laughed and declared, "Besides! The only ass who needed saving today was yours, considering it's the only one here with six bee stings and bark rash on it."

She rubbed at the seat of her pants and snapped, "Look! If I had known there were Spriggans I would have been better prepared okay!" She threw her hands out, "How was I supposed to know that Giant's camp was infested with them!? That's by far the weirdest thing I've ever seen in all my time in Skyrim. Spriggans hate Giants! Everyone knows that…"

Her companion burst into laughter again, holding his stomach and she couldn't seem to help herself and started smiling along with him and shouted, "Oh! Stop giving me such a hard time, _Paradan!_ You know I would've been more careful if I'd have known."

He caught his breath and wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning at her. Then, without warning, he quickly grabbed her around the waist, drawing her closer to him and looked down into her face, "I know Harbinger. But you'll have to forgive me for taking a rare opportunity to laugh at your expense since it doesn't happen very often."

"Hmm," she pursed her lips and bat her lashes at him, trying very hard to stifle the blush rising in her cheeks. Bishop could see the love she had for him in her eyes and even more so the passion he held for her. Fleet-Fang bent down, taking the opportunity in their seclusion to catch her lips in his. The two lovers shared a beautiful and intimate moment that left Bishop blushing for once and turning away from, but he stopped the moment he saw _her_.

The red-headed ghost with sparkling green eyes in a simple tunic and tan trousers shimmered into being behind the little Bosmer. Fleet-Fang noticed upon opening his eyes and pulled away from Wyllin, scowling and said, "She's here again."

Wyllin's lashes fluttered and she turned around confused for a moment before her face fell in anger. It was clear that the Eira's presence was entirely unwelcome. "Go away _Punahdok."_

Eira smirked at her and spoke derisively, "You insult me o' mighty Harbinger. But you would do well to be aware of your surroundings. Do you not feel your blood boiling?"

Wyllin paused as the sound of a dragon's call broke the air, far too close for comfort. Both Fleet-Fang and the Harbinger immediately ran off the road, seeking cover while looking to the skies for their quarry.

"It came from the east," he said, "I'm sure of it."

Wyllin looked to the east and murmured, "There. I see it."

A sleek, green, Blood Dragon came flying over a mountain and swept low, coasting along the plains of Whiterun. It was turning its head every which way, searching for something or rather, _someone,_ which was made evident when it landed a mere twenty feet off the path where Wyllin and Fleet-Fang were hiding.

" _Zu'u vis sahlon hi, Dovahkiin_ ," it hissed out menacingly.

"Shit," Wyllin growled under her breath.

Fleet-Fang slowly drew his bow and Eira stepped towards them, cocking her head and said, "Do you wish to know what it is saying Dragonborn? I can give you the language. All you have to do is ask."

Wyllin glared at her and whispered in a hushed voice, "As if I don't know the language having studied it myself for ages. What I really want is for you to just fuck off already!"

The dragon growled and turned its head in their direction and started to sniff the air. Eira narrowed her eyes at Wyllin and put a hand to her hip. "No. I think not Dragonborn. You have evaded your destiny for far too long now. It is time to relinquish it to someone able and willing to face it."

If she could have, Bishop was sure the Harbinger would have burned a hole through Eira with her gaze alone. Fleet-Fang was getting worried and grasped her arm, trying to calm her or perhaps stop her from attacking the cruel ghost altogether and ultimately give away their position. But it seemed Eira had other ideas.

"Let us see if dragons are trained the same as dogs," She raised her forefinger and her thumb to her lips.

Wyllin's expression turned to one of pleading. She shook her head and whispered, " _Don't_."

Eira gave her a wicked grin and blew through her fingers, whistling sharply, alerting the dragon right to their position.

"I SAID DON'T YOU BITCH!" Wyllin roared and burst from the brush, transforming rapidly into a werewolf. She lunged at Eira and tore her throat open, spraying blood all over her fur. The dragon, spotting the two women on the road flapped its wings hard, casting it off the ground and high into the air over them. It roared to the skies, " _Zu'u lost rund faal, Dovahkiin! Bo zeymah!_ "

Then it sucked in a sharp breath, preparing to shout at her and Fleet-Fang leapt in, firing a perfect shot straight into its chest, where its heart lay. The dragon released a gust of breath, a wasted shout and came crashing down, dead. Its body burned up and Wyllin took its soul. She changed back into human form and looked down at the bloody mess that was once Eira on the ground. The fiery woman still held a sinister smile upon her lips and her body began to fade.

"Is it over then?" Fleet-Fang breathed, "Is she gone?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Wyllin said as she wiped at the blood on her face, merely smearing it around more, "I have to admit that felt good though."

"We should get out of here," he said anxiously.

Wyllin nodded and made to move on with him when they were both stopped in their tracks at the thunderous bellows of many, _many_ dragons. The two of them slowly turned to the east and watched as twenty or more dragons came flying over the mountains.

(The music is _Tyrianis_ by Two Steps From Hell)

"Run," Fleet-Fang uttered, grasping at the fabric of her cloak, "RUN!" He roared and they both turned and kicked off the ground, sprinting away from the hoard of dragons honing in on them.

The mix of creatures flew low to the road behind them and started to release guttural shouts; Fire Breath, Ice Breath and Marked for Death. Wyllin did her best to shout back, "FO KRAH DIIN! YOL TOOR SHUL! FUS RO DAH!"

Breaking every shout before any of them had a chance to obliterate them on the spot. Fleet-Fang continued to fire arrows into his marks with absolute precision, taking down several of them by aiming for their eyes and their hearts. It seemed he'd had plenty of practice, no doubt from his time spent with the Dragonborn herself. Despite their best efforts, however, the dragons were only gaining on them and growing in numbers it seemed as they continued to call for their brothers hiding up on the mountains.

Wyllin threw her hands out, casting a spell to send three vicious spectral wolves up and tearing straight into the Ancient Dragon trailing on her. They ripped into its wings making it hiss and smash into the ground casting thick rubble and dust up everywhere. The two of them aimed for a forest near Falkreath, seeking the cover of the trees. The dragon hoard was forced to rise up to avoid hitting the enormous pines but the ones with the power of fire joined together and began blasting waves of scorching heat upon the trees.

Wyllin stopped a moment, in the center of a thick thatch of pines, catching her breath and looked on dismayed at what they were doing - all to get to her _._ They would destroy the woodland and kill all of the creatures in it just to get to _her_. Fleet-Fang grabbed her by the arm and cried, "I'll carry you on my back. I can run faster if I change."

She looked at him, her brows twisting in anguish and her eyes misting with tears at the scene that lay before them. He clasped her face in his hands and whispered lovingly, "I know. _I know, love._ But we can't help if we're dead. We're going to survive this. We'll _avenge_ them."

She nodded and he turned then, becoming a werewolf. She quickly climbed onto his back and he burst through the trees running on all fours, evading every shout that came crashing towards them. Wyllin sucked in a breath and shouted through the surrounding forest in an arc, "RAAN MIR TAH!"

All of the wildlife, which was either hiding in their burrows or fleeing for their lives came out, running alongside one another in perfect formation. She used the power of her shout to guide them all, leading them away from the danger.

The dragons were relentless in their pursuit and they were reaching the edge of the forest, about to lose their cover. Six dragons had already flown ahead, laying in wait for them. Wyllin used her knees to brace herself on Fleet-Fang's back, holding herself steady as she drew her bow. She nocked an arrow and shouted, "SU GRAH DUN!" In swift succession, she fired serrated arrow after serrated arrow sending them whistling with such intense power that they burst open the chest cavities of each of the dragons ahead of them. She grasped the scruff of Fleet-Fang's neck and twisted to look behind them before steadying herself and doing the same with the ten trailing at their backs.

Down the dragons went one after another. _Ten, nine, six, four, three, two_ – all of a sudden Fleet-Fang roared at the top of his lungs and Wyllin barely had a chance to turn when she saw Eira standing right in front of them, with not a mark on her. Things seemed to move in slow motion then as Eira shouted with all the power in her voice, "YOL TOOR SHUL!" casting a volley of fire at them. Fleet-Fang tried to avoid the fireball coming right at them but it was too late. He stopped, dead in his tracks, twisting his body quickly in a way that forced Wyllin to be thrown and buried under his hulking body as he took the brunt of the attack. The wave of flames washed over them leaving the great beast to roar in pain as his entire back was scorched beyond recognition.

Wyllin was trying to catch her breath and grasped his head into her hands as his body quickly returned back to human form, unable to hold his beast form any longer. He clutched at her, holding her close to him and choked out, "I love you, _parwen_."

"No," she gasped looking into his exhausted golden eyes, "No! No, no, no, no, no! Just hold on! _Hold on!_ " She started to summon her magic, calling forth a grand healing when his body was snatched from her. His arms, too weak to hold onto her, went limp as he was carried off into the sky by a vicious Frost dragon.

Wyllin didn't even notice Eira swiftly taking out the Blood dragon that was bearing down on her, nor could she hear her own screams as she watched her lover ripped apart before her eyes, utterly helpless to stop it.

All seemed to fall silent then and she numbly watched the Frost dragon drop his corpse before turning back, aiming for her. Would she let it take her? Would she give up?

" _No_ ," she grit, clenching her bow in hand. She quickly stood up, nocked an arrow and in all her anguish and fury fired a glowing arrow that pierced straight through the dragon's heart, making its chest cavity explode open. The creature crashed to the ground and burned up while she stood there, shaking all over, surrounded by death and a burning forest. It seemed she had fallen into Oblivion. There was no other explanation for the nightmare she was experiencing.

It wasn't until Eira spoke again that her senses slowly came back to her.

"So only when faced with death do you show true prowess and an aptitude for killing them. You surprise me Harbinger. I didn't know you had it in you."

Eira's words were biting and cruel. Wyllin's face scrunched up in anger and her tears burned her eye. She spun around and screamed at her, "MURDERER! YOU FUCKING MURDERER! YOU KILLED HIM!"

"Perhaps," Eira shrugged, "I did play a small part in his death, certainly, but if you had only chased your path in the first place - if you had faced Alduin – defeated him even-!"

"NO!" Wyllin roared, "WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!? WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!? YOU – YOU _EVIL_ _BITCH!_ "

Eira's eyes narrowed into thin slits as a song cast softly over the fields.

(The Song is _Lacrymosa – Synthesis_ version by Evanescence)

" _I can't change who I am._ "

Wyllin took a deep breath and cast her bow aside, then grasped the twin daggers at her sides and spun them in her hands. She allowed herself, for once, to feel nothing but the murderous rage she held in her heart for the ghost who had been haunting her life for more than a decade.

Eira dropped all pretenses and held out her rapier, still tinged with the blood of her earlier kill. The words of her song rang out, a mixture of Wyllin's pain and her own twisted story. The Harbinger lunged forward, roaring a shout of fire at Eira, who matched it with a shout of ice. The small Bosmer barreled through the dust with a Whirlwind Sprint and came lashing with all the fury of a rabid wolf. Eira caught her daggers with her rapier, making them clash and ring out amid the low crackling of dry grass. They danced, in battle like this, with Wyllin matching Eira's swift strikes one for one and even managing to get a few lethal jabs in.

But the fiery red-head hardly flinched from them. She'd been killed any number of times over the course of thousands of years and the sharp stabs of a pair of dragonbone daggers were no more than a mere puppy nipping playfully at her heels.

"WHY. WON'T. YOU. DIE!?" Wyllin shrieked lunging with her final blow. She buried one dagger into Eira's heart and the other deep into her gut but she seemed almost surprised then because Eira had put down her guard, allowing her to get that close. And still, the woman hardly moved, even with a trickle of blood dripping from her mouth.

Eira cut her eyes sharply into Wyllin's staggered gaze and answered her with a hollow voice, "Because I am already dead Dovahkiin and now you must join me and pass the mantle on to the next."

Wyllin released a sharp breath then as she felt Eira's blade slide forcefully up into her chest through her stomach. She looked down to see the woman still moving, almost too easily despite her own wounds. The Harbinger fell against Eira, who held her, and stroked her hair as she whispered in her ear, "It was a mistake to give me so much power with your emotions. You can let go now, child. He waits for you in the Hunting Grounds. You know it's for the best. You were not meant for this path… _And you can blame it on me and set your guilt-free_ _._ _And I don't wanna hold you back now, love._ "

She sang the last as she slowly faded while Harbinger Wyllin's life drifted away. The powerful Dragonborn fell to the forest floor and the last thing she saw was the rain clouds billowing in; a storm. She was relieved. At least the forest would be saved. And as the rain started to fall, softly pattering the ground beside her she could see the animals she'd saved circling around, almost as though they were mourning the loss of her and off in the distance she saw him laying there. She said quietly, "I love you _paradan_ ," before slipping away to her final resting place.

Bishop's vision started to recover and he shivered for the first time in a long time as a cold gust of wind cut through him. His cheeks felt suddenly colder as well and he quickly wiped at them, rubbing his eyes and realized he was crying.

"You would cry for me, _Rumenya?_ " Wyllin's low voice startled him.

"Gods! FUCK! _Don't-_ ," he snapped and threw his hands out, "Don't scare me like that! Gods! My heart's already going a mile a minute thanks to that – _that_ … whatever the _fuck_ that shit was!"

He got up and started to walk around the camp, looking to shake off the horrible things he'd just witnessed. Now he knew exactly why Rona always got antsy after diving into that crazy book of hers. Wyllin just watched from her spot on the ground, under the pine as he paced around trying to catch his breath and even occasionally looking over his shoulder like he was about to be attacked. Finally, he stopped and put a hand to his face groaning, "Why did you show me that?"

"You said you wanted to know."

He turned throwing his hand out and snarled at her, "Yeah! For you to _tell me_ , not transport me there so I could witness it firsthand!"

"It was better for you to see it," she said.

"How could that _possibly_ be better!?"

"Because now you know just how dangerous she is." She looked up at him, unblinking.

He shifted his stance anxiously, clenching his fists a few times before he went back over to the fallen tree and slumped down, laying on his bedroll. He turned away from her and the fire and said, "I'm going to sleep."

Wyllin made no reply to this. Only the sound of the crackling fire and Karnwyr's light snoring could be heard. Bishop tried closing his eyes and tried to fall asleep but he was still too restless. He rolled over onto his back and asked, "Why didn't you sing? Why would you let her dictate the battle like that?"

He turned his head, glancing her way. Her eyes were locked onto the fire and her face was morose.

"You _can_ sing can't you?"

She looked up at him and said solemnly, "Yes… I can sing. Of course I can. But I don't know songs of power. I never trained with them."

"What songs do you know?" She cocked a brow at him and he stammered, "I just! I can't sleep after seeing that nightmare fuel! So… if you could sing something, it'd help a lot. My girl, she uh," he cleared his throat, "she used to sing to help me sleep sometimes."

Wyllin smiled at him and said, "I understand. I would do the same for my paradan when he was restless…"

(The Song is _Wolf Moon – Type 0 Negative Cover_ by Kitty Synthetica)

The sound of guitar strings plucking echoed in around them. Bishop found it to be incredibly soothing to his soul in a way he couldn't explain. But when she started to sing, so different from any of them, yet still so beautiful and powerful it made his heartache.

" _The twenty-eighth day_ _  
_ _She'll be bleeding again_ _  
_ _And in lupine ways_ _  
_ _We'll alleviate the pain_

 _Unholy water  
Sanguine addiction  
Those silver bullets  
A last blood benediction"_

Bishop felt a burning in his pocket as her song filled the air. He reached in and pulled out Hircine's Artifact. The ring was glowing a ghastly red shade. It was calling to him. He felt his heart pounding hard in his chest. His anger and his fears were mounting at the prospect of the path that lay before him.

This was no longer a journey just to save the woman he loved from her tragic destiny, but a race to stop the end of the world as they knew it. He started to realize then that his entire existence would always be intertwined with hers. Even if he chose to drop that ring right then and there, walk away from it all and let go… it would change nothing. The world would still be on the verge of ending and she still needed help, not to mention Bishop felt entirely obligated to see it all through to the end. The Gods may have chosen her, but she had chosen him. And now he finally had the power to help her burning hot between his fingertips.

He heard Wyllin speaking over the words of her song, "It is time, _Rumenya_. That rage you feel inside… you must learn to control it at the peak of your beast form. Focus your mind and channel your anger. But be forewarned, should you let the power consume you I will take the ring and ignore your pleas for it to be returned. I will not allow anyone to abuse a Gift of Hircine no matter how much you crave it."

He took her words to heart and focused his anger into a singular direction. It was not hard to find the source for his hatred, because in that moment a tear ripped through the air above the trees to the west. Bishop quickly sat up, squinting through the dark at the shimmering hole in the sky in the distance. It wasn't long before he heard the high pitched screeching and hissing of the orange furies within as they clawed their way free from the very fabric of space and time. A dozen of them burst into their world from the land beyond and released their cries to the night before diving forth in search of prey.

"Eira was right about one thing," Wyllin said, "It'll never stop until Alduin is dead."

Bishop held the ring up and said, "Then let's finish what that bitch started."

She smirked at him as he slid the ring onto his right ring finger. He felt the power of the Daedric Prince surge through him almost immediately. It pumped into his veins and rushed to his head, clouding his mind. Then he crumpled to his knees suddenly, feeling his bones breaking as they rearranged and reformed bigger and stronger than ever.

It was worse than before. _So much worse_. The adrenaline and pain were nothing like when he'd been a werewolf before. He was surprisingly lucid for this transformation when before his mind would drift into a sort of feral numbness, instead, he was acutely aware of every second of it.

His body warped agonizingly in a way he had no control over and when it was finished he had to pick himself up off the ground. Bishop looked over his newly changed body taking in the change he'd lost familiarity with. He was at least three feet taller and covered in dark honey-brown fur from head to toe. His fingers had elongated into razor-sharp claws and his senses were heightened to the point that it was almost unbearable. He could easily hear the low scratchy hisses of the dragons in the distance as they attacked their prey, he could smell the acrid stench of molding mammoth curds coming from the Giant's camp over the low rolling hills and he could taste the blood in the air.

He didn't waste a second. He bolted off the ground and bound forward through the forest towards the Giant's camp. His blood was still boiling both from his change and from the atrocities he'd witnessed his newfound companion face in her dark past. He intended to unleash every ounce of rage on the tiny winged furies until he was too tired to move let alone think about any of it anymore. He would become accustomed to his newfound power and follow the path laid out for him.

Wyllin sat by, singing her song to the new moon as she scratched at Karnwyr's head. "He'll be alright little one," she said smiling down at the worried wolf, "He's strong _and_ fast, just like his ancestor… staying true to the name Fleet-Fang…"

" _Hey wolf moon_ _  
_ _Come cast your spell on me_ _  
_ _Hey wolf moon_ _  
_ _Come cast your spell on me."_


End file.
